No-Knead Bread

It's no surprise, that in an article promising 15 recipes "that will make your house smell delicious,"  I chose the one on how to make bread.  But seriously, with a little planning not only will your kitchen smell delicious, but if you time it just right you will be pulling these beauties out of the oven just as your hard working husband arrives home. 

Recipe from theKitchn

Don't you just want to carve out the top of that bread, and fill it with soup?!

Ingredients:

3 cups white flour OR bread flour

3/4 teaspoon yeast

1 1/4 teaspoon salt

1 1/2 cups slightly warm water

 

Equipment:

Large bowl

Plastic wrap

Spray oil OR olive oil

Oven-safe pot with lid OR Dutch oven (should be at least 4 quarts in size)
(I did not have an oven-safe 4-quart vessel, thus the mini loaves.  In addition, baking the bread in two smaller loaves may provide you with added portion control.  If you are anything like me, you'll need it.)
 

Instructions:

1. Gather your ingredients!

2. A note on the yeast: The original No-Knead Bread recipe specifies instant yeast. You can use pretty much any yeast you have on hand.

3. Add your flour to the bowl.

4. Add the yeast and salt and stir thoroughly.

5. Measure out 1 1/2 cups of barely warm (tepid) water.

6. Pour into the bowl and stir thoroughly.

7. The dough will look rough and shaggy.

8. Spray the top of the dough with cooking spray, or, if you do not have cooking spray, lightly oil the top of the dough with olive oil. Spread a thin layer over top with a paper towel, then turn the dough in the bowl so the whole ball of dough is coated with the oil.

9. Cover the bowl with plastic wrap.

10. Throw a towel over top of the bowl and set it in a warm corner. Leave it alone for 6 to 8 hours.

11. After at least 6 hours have passed the dough will have risen and will look rather bubbly and stretched out.

12. Lightly oil the counter top and turn the dough out onto it, folding it over on itself at least once.

13. Cover the dough with plastic wrap and let it sit for another hour.

14. About 20 minutes before the hour is up, turn on the oven to 450°F. Place an oven-safe Dutch oven or pot in the oven.

15. The dough will have risen and nearly doubled in size.

16. Quickly shape the dough into a round ball and drop it into the pot. 

17. Optional: Slash or cut the top of the dough with kitchen shears or a sharp knife.

18. Place the lid on the pot and put it in the oven.

19. Bake for 30 minutes.

20. Remove the lid from the pot.

21. Bake for an additional 15 to 20 minutes.

22. You can be extra-sure that the bread is done when an instant-read thermometer inserted in the top or side reads 210°F.

23. Remove the bread from the oven. If you wish to keep it warm for serving, you can wrap it in a clean kitchen towel.

24. Slice and serve!



Winter Thaw



A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words - Real "Housewives" of Cleveland



Social

There is a first time for everything, and this weekend the little lady attended her first winter social, or as she referred to it her "snow furcial".  (Jokingly we noted, that if she attends a private Christian high school like her folks, it might be her first and last.)  With her brother to escort her, and parents to chaperon, she slipped into her finest and sparkliest of outfits to join her classmates in dancing the night away.  Between her curled hair and coordinating formal wear all that was missing was the corsage.

These two know how to have a good time. 

One day this picture will inevitably bring me to tears.

Sloppy seconds. 

The reality of my life, the little lady always pulling me in one direction, and the little man most content in my shadow.

Our tiny dancer spent her evening holding the tulle of her party dress out as she shimmied and swayed to the music, stopping only to change partners and snack on pizza.   

And, speaking of tender moments that evoke tears, our little man dutifully fending off suitors.

She really is a free spirit, our gal.  As I watched her joyful and rhythmic movements, bright smile, and curls bounce I was filled with pride, knowing that this little lady with her booming voice, endless energy, charisma and dynamic personality is ours.



A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words - aversion



Fiction

Picking up the little lady from school Monday through Wednesday is always an adventure.  The picture adorned hallways are crowded with parents and caregivers eager to reclaim their children.  Strollers clog the corridors as younger siblings attempt to break free from their parent's grip in an effort to explore art projects (usually those that are covered in glue or wet paint as they lay on the floor to dry), or dash into the bathrooms with their shiny miniature sinks, lowered soap dispensers, and pint-sized urinals perfect for splashing in.  I arrive unaware of the little lady's state of mind, the extent of her fatigue, and degree of hunger pains, which inevitably leave her literally begging for a snack at my feet.  (So nice to see you, too!)  As, this post is dedicated to the little lady and her recent antics, I won't even mention the little man's typical behavior during pick-up, but will say that I now fully understand the parental motive behind leashing one's child.



On a typical day parents begin lining the hallways at 11:40 to receive their children promptly at 11:45.  Classroom doors open and the children are dismissed one at a time to smiling parents with arms open to receive their warm bodies, monogrammed backpacks, and over sized artwork.  As much as each parent would like to, there is really no time to linger and chat with the teacher as she must promptly tidy her classroom before the afternoon session begins and the children are usually desperate to get home for lunch.  Today; however, we were invited into the classroom so that her teacher and I could have a "little chat." 


The conversation began something like this, (with amusement) "Today, Charlotte shared how she ate wine and pizza for dinner last night."


Oy.  Here we go...


She continued, "She also engaged her friends in dramatic storytelling during free play this morning.  She spoke of princesses, children, toys, and storage.  We were unsure as to whether the children OR the toys were being held in storage units.  Her elaborate and creative tales also included themes of monsters, killing and hatred."  (I'm only slightly paraphrasing.) 


Of course they did...


"Now, we did confirm that it was the toys and NOT the children that were in storage. (Phew!) We desire to feed Charlotte's creative mind.  She has a strong command of language and is passionate about story telling.  However, we felt it important that we were on the same page, and wanted you to know the content of her stories."  (God bless her.)


So, there we were in a preschool classroom discussing the likes of alcohol and violent story themes.  I took a moment to collect myself and thanked the teacher for bringing this to my attention, then proceeded to craft my own tale explaining that:


- No, our sweet child did not have wine for dinner.  In fact, neither did her parents.  But, yes wine and pizza are an excellent pairing.  (I felt like downing a glass of red right then and there.)


- Yes, as of late, the little lady has been attempting to include themes of hate and anger into her dramatic readings each night before bed. Often stating that "No mama, I don't hate, the people IN the book hate." Reminding me that "Joseph's brothers hated him and wanted his beautiful coat."  (Ah yes,  Sunday School the unlikely culprit!)  


- As far as monsters are concerned, the little lady has been fearfully waking each night complaining of monsters in her dreams, and we are working through that. (How does one prove the imaginary nature of monsters to a young and fearful mind?)


- And yes, the little lady really does have a creative mind that is constantly at work as she plays, reads, and engages us in conversation all. day. long.


Thankfully, her teacher reassured me that she was pretty confident that we did not give her wine with dinner, was familiar with the Old Testament story of Joseph, empathized with our troublesome monsters, and went out of her way to affirm our little lady's imagination, creativity and sensitive spirit.




I left feeling only moderately embarrassed.




As I took each of our children's hands and walked (the now very empty) school hallways, I embraced our family walk of shame, thankful for understanding teachers, larger than life imaginations, and our little Steinbeck who spins the wildest of tales.




It might be necessary to revisit the story of Joseph this evening.

A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words - over it

After six successful days (with only one more to go before cashing in on her movie), the little awoke this morning, marched to the fridge, removed her incentive chart, and announced, "I don't want a sticker chart anymore."  Just before crumpling and tossing it into the garbage, she looked us both square in the eye as if to say, "And. I. Mean. Business."

Well played, little lady.

However, please know that the warning system that accompanied the bedtime incentive plan is still in full effect. 

And we, too, mean business.

 It's too bad, I was looking forward to Mary Poppins and her many spoonfuls of sugar.

Awaiting your next move ~

Your Mother



Bedtime revelations

Apartment living.  It has its perks.  It has its downfalls.   We have put our best foot forward, embracing the many conveniences (covered parking, in house maintenance man, long corridors perfect for mid-day toddler sprints) The Shaker Regency has to offer and ignoring (read: not perseverating on) all that is inconvenient.   Having said that, one area that is increasingly difficult to ignore is the apartment's layout, that our beloved first born takes full advantage of each evening as she laments and protests her way out of going to bed.  She's a smart one, knowing full well that down the very (short) hallway that leads to her bedroom, her parents are fully engrossed in some Emmy-nominated cable television show, savoring every minute of silence after a full day of parenting and doctoring, AND that if she speaks up, wails, or cries out loud enough one of us will come running in an effort to keep their slumbering second born from waking, for the very thought of two children awake at 8:45 pm is more than either of them can bear.  (Insert dramatic pause.)    Bedtime. Perhaps the most difficult time of day for a parent to act unselfishly, continue to labor in love, hold one's tongue, speak kindly, and parent well if our little ones do not instantly hit the pillow, embracing all Mr. Sandman has to offer. 

This weekend, after months of voices raised in exhaustion, the husband and I managed to strategize a bedtime incentive plan.  A plan, that since its conception has resulted in smoother bedtimes and less parental follow-up.  Simply stated.  Stay in bed receive a sticker.  Receive seven stickers in a row, earn a movie.  (One can only check Mary Poppins out of the library so many times in a row before recognizing that it is worth the investment.)  That we had not thought of this before had me scratching my head.  Three stickers later, the hubs and I are enjoying more peaceful evenings.  "We dominated our children tonight, " said he, on the inaugural night of our anti-resistance bedtime campaign.  (If you know my husband, you might chuckle as I did over his choice of words.  If you don't personally know my husband, please know that he meant dominate in the kindest of ways.)  Have we thought through the incentive plan past week one, assuming it works?  No.  But, I don't really see ourselves purchasing  four DVDs a month.  We'll regroup once we pass the hurdle of week one.  Parenting is a marathon remember, not a sprint.

As a believer, I cannot help but view my role as parent in light of my relationship with my Heavenly Father.  How many times do I stand in defiance, crying out, questioning His timing, or pout in His presence?  My actions have not only mirrored my daughter's, but have often gone above and beyond her dramatic displays.  And yet, He responds with gentleness, asking that I "cast my cares upon Him" out of care and concern for me (I Peter 5:7).  His unconditional love each day envelops me with a peace the surpasses all understanding and a grace that is undeserved.  My hope and prayer is that each day, as a result of time spent in His Word, our children would begin to see less of me and more of Him in our daily interactions.  I am not naive (nor foolish), knowing that as soon as I hit "publish post" an incident will occur in my home that will challenge the very words that I just wrote.   But, as I cast my cares upon Him, committing each moment of the day - each activity, meal, bath time, and bedtime - He will provide for my needs as I attempt to provide for our children's.

Encouragement for Today

Vehicle, Obstacle, or Passenger?
by Barnabas Piper



It’s hard being a parent. It’s hard raising little sinners up to be godly, contributing members of society. Children make it hard by being, well, themselves.

But you know what’s harder than raising little sinners? Being a sinner who gets to raise little sinners. Parents are selfish, and this selfishness exhibits itself most clearly in our parenting.

We treat out children as vehicles to happiness. They are required to carry us to the promised land of reputation or vicarious success. The bear the weight of our bulging, saggy, baggy egos on their little shoulders as we jerk the steering wheel this way and that toward good grades, little league all-star games, and proper table manners. They strain under the burden of our crushing expectations as we mash the gas pedal to speed up their progress toward making us look like genius parents in the eyes of people whose praise we lust after and who we can’t really stand.

And at some point our kids break down. It might be a quiet sputtering to a halt or it might be a glorious, tire blowing, whirling spinout. But it is certain to happen. Since they are resilient it will likely end up happening multiple times as they keep trying again and again.

And what is a vehicle that stops working? An obstacle. And that is what our children become upon our realization that they can’t carry us to the promised land of parental bliss. Then our resentment builds. We might be aggressive with words or passive with our affection, but one way or another that obstacle child comes to know that dad or mom wishes she would just get out of the way. A broken down vehicle is, at best, a nuisance after all.

But children are neither vehicles nor obstacles. If anything, they are passengers. We are to carry them through the changes, travails, and challenges of childhood then youth until they are capable of traveling on their own. And then we accompany them and show them the way. And at some point, down the road, they begin to help us. We are to carry their burdens until we can teach them to carry it as a man or woman ought.

I find myself tempted to put the burden of my happiness on the shoulders of my children every day, and I know this is the case by how often I react to their failures and sins as if they have stopped me from achieving happiness. My aim needs to be to help them learn where real happiness lies by carrying them there. That is, I must model the easy yoke and light burden of Jesus and take my children to Him as the source of happiness.

Can't Leave Alone Bars

During my second year of teaching, I had the privilege of tasting these little gems, while celebrating a student's birthday.  I immediately requested the recipe and have been baking them ever since.  Today they will be dropped off at a friend's home along with Barefoot Contessa's Turkey Sausage Lasagna, salad and garlic bread to celebrate the arrival of their second child.  If you are looking for a new lasagna recipe to try and are a fan of goat cheese, I highly recommend this rich and satisfying recipe!  Now, back to bars...

Ingredients:

1 package Yellow Cake Mix (I favor Betty Crocker's yellow butter recipe.)

2 eggs

1/2 cup vegetable or canola oil

1 can sweetened condensed milk

1 cup chocolate chips

1/4 cup butter

1. In a bowl, combine the cake mix, eggs, and oil.  Press 2/3 of the mixture into a 9x13 pan (that has been sprayed nonstick spray). Set remaining aside.

2. In microwave, combine condensed milk, chocolate chips and butter until melted. 

3. Pour chocolate mixture over crust layer, and drop remaining cake mix over top.  (I like to take small pieces of the batter, flatten them, and lay them gently over the chocolate layer.  It bakes more evenly.)

4.  Bake at 350 degrees for 20-25 minutes until lightly browned.

The gooey chocolate center is divine, and will have people guessing what exactly it is.  And, as the name suggests, these bars will plague you with temptation until the last crumb has been eaten.  Go ahead.  Tempt yourself today.

Chicken Potpie Empanadas

We love us some potpie.  Here is a fun twist on an old favorite.

from REAL SIMPLE

Ingredients:

1 tablespoon unsalted butter

1/2 yellow onion, diced

1 tablespoon flour

3/4 cup low-sodium chicken broth

1 10-ounce box frozen peas and carrots (I used equal parts frozen peas and finely chopped baby carrots.)

1 3-to-4 pound store-bought rotisserie chicken, meat shredded

1/4 to 1 teaspoon kosher salt (We like salt in this family, and noted an improved taste in final product when seasonings were increased.)

1/4 teaspoon black pepper

2 refrigerated 9-inch pie crusts (from a 15-ounce package, such as Pilsbury)

1. Heat oven to 400 degrees.

2. Melt butter in a frying pan over medium heat. Add the onion and cook until onions are translucent.  Add the flour and cook, stirring constantly for one minute.  Still stirring, slowly add the broth.  Cook until thickened. Add the peas, carrots, chicken, salt and pepper.  Bring to a gentle simmer, and cook for 10-15 minutes. Remove from heat.

3. Cut each pie crust in half to form 4 half circles.  Spoon the chicken mixture over the bottom half of each half-circle, leaving a 1/2 inch border.  Fold the top of each crust over the chicken to form a quarter-circle.  Using your fingers, press the border to seal.  Make three 1-inch slits in each top crust.  Spray with non-stick spray or an egg wash.

4.  Transfer to a parchment lined baking sheet.  Bake until golden, 15-20 minutes.

Lest we forget

A few things significant and small...

- The little lady has been diligently working on writing her (very long) name; today she wrote it with almost no help (with the exception of the very tricky and somewhat confusing letter "R").

- These days, the little man is less inclined to lay down quietly for bedtime each night, choosing instead to bounce, strip down to his skives, and call out for additional books to be read. 

- The little lady is growing more independent each day, and enjoys dressing herself, taking showers, and collecting everyone's boots in the morning and placing them at my feet in an effort to get us out the door more quickly.  She continues to encourage her brother's growing vocabulary and quizzes him daily on his word recognition and enunciation.

- The little man now proudly and courteously offers a (clear as day) "Excuse me!" after each burp or (forgive me) gas that is passed.  (A significant milestone for any little boy.)

- The little lady continues to exhibit a very sensitive spirit, and empathetic heart.  Her concern and care for others is evident in her daily prayers.  Today we crafted a prayer chain out of construction paper, writing each of her classmates' names on each link as a reminder to pray for her friends.

- Knock, knock jokes continue to amuse and delight the little lady (her jokes can be as lengthy as short stories) and little man (his go to joke consisting of two lines - "knock knock (expectant pause)" the obligatory "who's there?" followed by "tee too" and hysterical (and confounded) laughter

- Sibling affection is not lost on our sweet ones, they daily look for ways to affirm one another, hug and smooch each other.

- Jeff is currently training for Ohio's Tough Mudder, which he will (hopefully) complete on his 32nd birthday.  It has become his new hobby and in an effort to support him in his physical preparation, I have begun working out with him a few times a week.  (File that under SIGNIFICANT; I'm a girl who loves a good book and a cozy couch.)

Friendship & Motherhood

If we are to love each other like Jesus loved us, then it makes practical sense to band together during young motherhood.  Because - like Jesus does - we'll end up loving each other when we're crazy, burned out, hysterical, and exhausted.  We'll stand by one another during the most neurotic phase of parenting there is.  We won't let a member of our tribe slip under the radar or get swallowed by isolation.  We share the burden of parenting, making it lighter for everyone to carry.  We'll remind our friends to laugh and call forward the best in each other. 

Motherhood is the task that brings us together, but love is the glue that binds us together.  If we're too busy to love each other like this, then we're too busy.  We need our friends.  We need their counsel and companionship; they need our compassion and comic relief.

 from Out of the Spin Cycle by Jen Hatmaker

A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words - win or lose



A sledding we will go

It's hard to believe, considering both of our sweet ones were born in Wisconsin, a state that promises abundant snow accumulation each winter, but our children had never known the thrills of sledding, a rite of passage for all children of the Midwest.  That is until yesterday, when we bundled  their wee frames in layers of snow gear and ventured outdoors for an hour of family fun.

Walking to the neighborhood snow hill proved to be physically exhausting for the little man, who arrived at the hill underwhelmed and dubious of our chosen activity for the morning.  

Gearing up for run 1 of four. 

The mighty hill and its incline wore our little ones out after just four runs.  Truth be told, I'm not sure I had the energy to make a fifth run after hauling sleds and limp bodies up the hill in my Ugg boots that lacked any resemblance of traction. 

Dubbed our little trooper, the lil' lady awaits her next big sledding adventure.

Having enjoyed only the actual sledding, the little man could have done without the constant nose drip, near face washing, and cold temperatures.  

However, the squeals of delight, rosy cheeks, and fits of laughter made it all worth it! 



My life on a cell phone

For the past month or so, my handy Verizon Vortex cell phone had been informing me that I was "low on storage."  In an effort to free up space, I asked the husband (my go-to problem solver for all matters involving technology) to remedy the situation, and he quickly uploaded all of my stored pictures onto the computer. Problem solved.  My hero.  Days later, I skimmed through the rather large file of images, and quickly found myself on a long and lengthy path down memory lane. And. There. Was. No. Turning. Back.

Recalling the days when it was just the two of us girls sharing the couch, in anxious anticipation of the little man's arrival.

 

Reminding me just how little our little lady was when the little man did in fact arrive.

How in a matter of moments our little lady grew from this...

into this.

The days when this felt like an significant accomplishment.

Reminding me just how far we've come.

 

And, thankful to have captured moments like this.

And, this.

And, this.

The quiet moments.

The calm.

The crazy.

The loud.

And, every moment in between.

My images, my days, my memories, my life.

Storage no longer low, and heart full.



A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words - adorned



32 and surprised

It's official.  I'm 32.  No longer hovering near or around 30, but well on my way into a decade of life that promises many things for our family.  And, if I was a betting gal, which I am on the rare occasion when my husband entices me to sit down at the tables for a thrilling game of blackjack,  I would say 32 is going to be a good year.  And, thanks to said husband, my 32nd year of life started off with a series of sweet surprises that propelled my already upbeat mood from cheerful to down right celebratory.

Saturday morning I awoke feeling tired after a restless night of sleep thanks to two little darlings who tag teamed their way through a wake-filled night.  However, after a rare and much needed opportunity to lounge on the couch, my spirits lifted as the smell of pancakes wafted from the kitchen, pancakes I took no part in making (sweet surprise #1).  While consuming my man's fluffy flap jacks it was decided that we would make a family trip to Nordstrom for a quick Christmas exchange and to put my birthday gift card (from my generous in-laws) to good use.  Mama needed some new jeans!  Now, it is not often that we A) shop as a family and B) shop at Nordstrom.  Even more, it is not often (read: almost never) that my dear husband waits outside of a brightly lit dressing room with two lil' crazies while I try on various washes and cuts of premium denim (sweet surprise #2).  Not only did he wrangle our little ones into sweet daddy submission in my absence, but offered a gentle and reaffirming nod when asked which jeans flattered my mom-of-two dairy aire.  With new denim purchased (on sale!), we made our way home for a quick lunch before putting the kids to bed. 

As I busied myself with lunch, Jeff left for what was supposed to be a quick (and innocent) errand, picking up a co-worker from the airport.  He arrived home 45 minutes later.  Within minutes of his arrival, I received a phone call from my dear friend Adriana, and seconds later I opened our apartment door to find these two gals...my birthday presents! (Sweet surprises 3 and 4)



Apparently the very night he graduated from residency, Jeff put into motion a plan that would surprise the pants off me seven months later. (Good thing I had purchased new jeans earlier in the day.)  As my shock turned into giddiness, I began asking questions attempting to wrap my mind around the fact that my girlfriends from residency, girlfriends who live in Arkansas and Michigan, were now standing in my Cleveland apartment.  

We would spend the afternoon enjoying an almost three hour lunch (that might have gone longer if a certain Cheesecake Factory waiter had not kept giving us a pleading and slightly evil eye), a walk through the mall with coffees in hand, and dinner reservations for three at Lolita's, a Michael Symon restaurant I had been attempting to go to for months (sweet surprise #5).

Dinner was amazing, and that I shared it wish such dear friends was extra special.  I continued to marvel over their well executed plan all evening, and returned home that evening a very full, content, and thankful 32-year-old.

At breakfast the next morning I could not shake the smile from my face as I sat surrounded by my sweet ones, thoughtful husband, and friends Adri, Sara and her husband, Pete in one enormous booth at Yours Truly Restaurant.  It is difficult to put into words how it felt to have friends willing to travel the miles to see me and a husband who took the time to initiate and plan such a meaningful weekend.  All of the cost, time, covert airport pick-ups, secret email exchanges and text messages just to help a girl welcome year thirty-two. 

Once again, my cup runneth over. 



The Story of Us (Abridged Version)

It began 14 years ago.  Three fellas bonding over sports, similar senses of humor, video games, undoubted shenanigans, and music in the dorm rooms of Taylor University.  They graduated, pursued careers, dated nice girls, became engaged and then married.  The three becoming three couples.

They shared in wedding celebrations, supporting each "I do."

Spent their summer days together, enjoying the freedom of young married life.

Attended concerts, playing air guitar into the late hours of the night.

Rallied around each move, laboring in love and humid temperatures.

They enjoyed long dinners, uninterrupted conversation filled with laughter, and the hysterical ramblings of the men as they poked fun at each other's flaws in the playful way only old and faithful friends can.

They cheered each other on through all of life's up and downs.  Supporting each hair color, style, job promotion, graduation, birthday, anniversary, and everything in between.

They cleared their calendars for each other, traveled across state lines, and remembered significant dates in each couple's lives.  They became best friends.

They became family. 

Then one day, they became parents.

And, godparents.

And, before they knew it, they were outnumbered.

There were new significant dates to remember, new milestones to celebrate.

They still cleared their calendars for one another, though spent their time together in significantly new ways.



Their children became friends.

Their family grew.

Happily, their story is not ending, but awaiting life's next big moment.