So I went a little crazy and decided to join a food co-op. This is different from the “went a little crazy and scrubbed the cwap out of our bathroom causing protests from the Half Pint in his Womb Room” and the “went a little crazy and thought I can exercise every morning before seven am and continue to be a cheerful (or at least non-crabby) person.”

Yes, that does make me crazy.

But this is a different kind of crazy. This is a crazy that should be good for me and my family, a crazy that will help us build community, learn to cook, and share yummy healthy meals. Some folks might call it a supper club; some might call is a “make ahead meals”; some might call it making a whole lot of yummy food and exchanging it with others for their whole lot of yummy food and having an aversion to knives and pots and pans and cleaning for a month until the exchange happens again.

See, what happened was I hung out with my neighbor. It snowed, and she actually had free time in her schedule (a rarity). She told me about the food co-op she participates in with five others families and how they make meals to be frozen, exchange them, and basically have dinner for the whole month. “It’s revolutionized my life!” Now, my friend is a Connector, so she naturally said, “You should join!” and because it’s so revolutionary, I had to become a part of it (I’m a Maven, so I need to know about all revolutionariness going on so as to let others know). She said they were looking for another family or two to join: would we be interested?

I said ‘yes.’ She told the co-op co-ordinator. Who said, ‘maybe’: they weren’t sure if they wanted to add to the meal making. So I lingered in maybeland for over a month, until this Monday when I got an email asking us to join in the co-op goodness. And because I’m hormonal and crazy, I jumped in: why crazy? Because the exchange is this Monday. Why is that a problem? Because I don’t cook.

My husband would say I cook. My parents would say I cook. But it’s really more of a novelty than a staple in my day. For Hubby to come home to a meal ready and waiting is similar to him coming home and me saying that it was a *great* day: not a frequent thing. Usually I cook dinner a) when it’s four o’clock and I’m so bored that even Oprah can’t entertain me with her Secret or 2) JJ woke up early from a nap and we need to do *something* until the Death Hour passes and Hubby gets home.

But for some reason I think that this weekend I can successfully make six batches of Chicken Pesto Chili, freeze them, incubate a fetus, watch a Turbo Tot, and maintain a cheerful demeanor.

Is everyone laughing?

We’ve had to do some prep work to get ready. One: purchasing pesto from Costco and freezing it in ice cube trays so that folks can plop it in their warmed up bowl of goodness. Two: purchasing ingredients to make a ton of chili. Three: eating all the “what in the world is this? don’t ask” items out of the freezer so we’ll have room to a) freeze chili and 2) receive meals o’ plenty, but also maintaining items needed for the chili: Hubby – “Are you going to put chicken in this stirfry?” CrazyLady: “NO! Must save for chili!”. “Mmmm: pesto.” “NO! For CHILI!” That’s some serious planning: how *do* I manage, I wonder.

So yes: this weekend I will cook. And it will be good, I hope. If not, I’ll bake some cookies as a sort of peace offering, hoping I won’t have to wear a big NAC (not a cook) emblazoned on myself like Hester, having been exiled from the food co-op.

Oh, the shame, the shame. . .

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As a wife, I’ve subscribed to some of that American myth that the “good” housewife knows how to cook healthy, bountiful, absolutely tasty meals, the kind that makes college boys come home because “no one cooks like Mom.”  However, with all of that pressure, I tend to get stage fright and make . . . nothing.  Except cookies and muffins because I seem to have a baker’s groove.  But meals are a hard one for me to manage.  Instead, I’ve gotten really good at reading cookbooks, watching the Food Network, and making yummy noises.  I mean, virtual reality’s supposed to be infiltrating our society, and this is my contribution:  virtual yummy eating while munching on bland, non-prepared food.  Plus, to be honest, I have a hard time with the criticism:  if the meal is not met with outcries of “how wonderful!  This is amazing!  I will eat it forever and ever amen!”, I deem it crappy whether or not it truly is.

But the other day, I found a yummy meal.  My first hint that it would be okay was the five star Cooking Light rating as well as the title.  Mind you, I did throw in some variations:  I had no stringy noodles, so I used penne.  I had no chili paste, so I used Crushed Red Pepper.  I don’t eat sugar, so I used Sugar Twin Brown Sugar substitute.  It was deemed good, and so I share with you.

Fettuccine and Tofu with Finger-Licking Peanut Sauce

From

This dish has endless variations: Substitute chicken, pork, or shrimp for the tofu and almost any kind of pasta for the fettuccine. Or add vegetables of your choice.

1/2  cup fat-free, less-sodium chicken broth
1/4  cup chunky peanut butter
1/4  cup low-sodium soy sauce
3  tablespoons brown sugar
2  tablespoons rice vinegar
2  teaspoons grated peeled fresh ginger
2  teaspoons chile paste with garlic
4  garlic cloves, minced
8  ounces uncooked fettuccine
1  pound firm tofu, drained and cubed
1  cup (2-inch) sliced green onions
1  cup shredded carrot

Combine first 8 ingredients in a small saucepan. Cook over medium heat 5 minutes or until smooth, stirring frequently. Remove from heat.Cook pasta in boiling water 8 minutes, omitting salt and fat. Add tofu, onions, and carrot; drain. Place pasta mixture in a large bowl. Add peanut butter mixture; toss gently.

Yield: 4 servings (serving size: 2 cups)

NUTRITION PER SERVING
CALORIES 465(29% from fat); FAT 14.5g (sat 2.3g,mono 5.3g,poly 6g); PROTEIN 23g; CHOLESTEROL 1mg; CALCIUM 174mg; SODIUM 713mg; FIBER 4.5g; IRON 9.6mg; CARBOHYDRATE 60.8g

Cooking Light, APRIL 2001It was fast.  It was healthy.  It was yummy.  And now I have to come up with another good recipe:  oy.

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• Non-skid plates

• Safety eating utensils

• Dinner for all

Tonight my bebe, Hubby, and I ate dinner that I made.  I know for many this is a normal statement, but there are many NEW! and AMAZING! things in those words:

See, it all started when I hung out with friends who have babies about the same age as JJ, and they talked about eating habits:  their children consume food of their own accord, and their diet consists of more than jarred veggies, cottage cheese, bagels, and bananas.  They eat vegetables!  Tofu!  Lettuce!  Meat!  Little sandwiches!  Enchiladas!  Part of the reason I still feed JJ is because his attention span is like my husband’s cell phone battery:  pretty pathetic.  Our goal:  shovel food in while you can before it’s back to GO!GO!GO!

This weekend while the Gran was here, we went to Target (enter heavenly “AHHHH” sound); after a walk down the baby gear isles, we came home with some non-skid bowls and plates as well as cute little forks and spoons (one has Elmo on it, and he thinks it’s a kitty:  funny).  With the Gran’s encouragement and support (emotional and monetarial) I thought, heck:  let’s give it a try.

Once a door like that is opened, it can never be shut.  JJ now is determined to feed himself, whether that be cottage cheese or oatmeal (which the most efficient method would be to pick out the raisins first, and then tackle the oats – keeping the Kitty Spoon clean and using his fingers).

This evening I decided to actually make dinner.  This in itself is astounding:  dinner at our abode generally consists of me asking, “So what are you going to have for dinner?”  I don’t cook; I bake – cooking consists of providing tasty frozen pizzas, cereal (oh, the cereal), and the makings for sandwiches, french toast, and quesadillas.  But this evening I was inspired:  I would make something for all of us to eat.  I was going to make an egg casserole, but then settled on the Egg and Corn Tortilla Strata thing which was intended to have a South of the Border flavor, but I went for an ode to our recently passed Olympics (i.e. I didn’t use corn, but substituted peppers and mushrooms; used rosemary tortillas instead of corn; subbed Italian seasoning for cilantro and spaghetti sauce for salsa).  I made an onion/pepper/mushroom/egg/garlic saute concoction, layered it with cheese and sauce between four tortillas, and baked it.

Jason ate it:  onions weren’t quite done.  I ate it:  cheese wasn’t melted quite enough.  JJ picked at it.  I scooped it into his mouth:  he yelled, he fought, and then he ate.  He ate most of it!  He even picked out most of the red peppers and popped them in his mouth.

Food!  Adult food!  Made by me!  Veggies not in a jar!

Of course, that was deserving of freshly baked banana muffins.  Of course. 

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Friday I had to run to the bank which is in another town.  Silly, to have one’s access to money being not in the same place that you reside, but a bi-product is that I have an excuse to visit one of my favorite places as of late:  Win-Co.

Apparently this love is hereditary, for when I lived in Boise as a tyke, my mother loved to frequent Win-Co’s predecessor WareMart.  Hurrah for living amongst a flood of Mormons who need quality and cheap food to feed their broods.  Win-Co is a lovely 24-hour establishment, meaning it’s there for you at all hours and all emergencies, such as when my roommate and I had a toilet that started flooding at 10:30pm and lacked a plunger (yes:  Win-Co carries plungers!  Amazing place).
Shopping at Win-Co is not for the weak-hearted.  I remember my first trip as an adult:  overwhelmed by the amount of goods lined up to the ceiling, not knowing how to navigate the bulk isle, knowing nothing about bagging groceries (I couldn’t even figure out that you had to push the button at the end of the beltline to get the groceries to come to you), and at the time Win-Co didn’t accept debit cards which was my only used medium of payment.  Oy, it was a sad, sad time.  But thanks to some years of wisdom, the self checkout at Freddies (a much kinder, gentler dip into the bagging realm), and Win-Co now accepting debit, it’s a wonderful place to engage in a shopping adventure.

A few tips:

• Some people say bulk is bad:  full of germs and such.  I agree, but not with Win-Co.  Because their bulk section is used so frequently, the products aren’t there long enough to get the nasties.  Shop first thing in the morning to get the freshest bulk.

• Do not shop during peak hours.  You will run into a) old people who remember the price per pound of flour from 1955 and will not quickly buy bulk but rather calculate if their getting the best bang for their bulk, and 2) parents with too many kids and not enough time, money, or patience.

• Not all things are cheaper at Win-Co.  If your local grocery store is having a sale (like Safeway having soda and Progresso soup for a buck), they most likely are cheaper.  During holiday season it was cheaper to buy chocolate chips in the bag at Freddies than it was to buy bulk from Win-Co.  Get to know holiday or weekly specials.

• Bagels from a bag are bad; bagels at Win-Co are GOOD.  Buy them:  yum.

• Know what you want:  go with a list, or at least an idea of what you need so as not to be overwhelmed by the floor to ceiling goods – it can blind the most adept shoppers.

So go to Win-Co; be fruitful and shop.

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• Do laundry

• Buy butter

• Make scones

Today was a day not unlike any other Sunday. Laundry must be done; despite cup privileges being cut off by 6pm, my son still has the ability to retain massive amounts of water that not even the highest end diaper can contain. How potty training will ever occur successfully without a catheter or a bed pan or both . . . I haven’t the foggiest.

Sunday is the day I get my “hunter and gatherer” on: whip out those scissors and attack the Sunday ads. And glory hallelujah screams the inner baker to see butter on sale – three for $5.00! Oh the concoctions that will be made – giant ginger cookies, plattar, and most importantly: the scones. They come Mrs. Kennedy recommended, and I am certainly not one to take that lightly.

Much of the evening was spent engaging on the Scone Adventure: cranberry and white chocolate chips thrown in for kicks. Tomorrow I have an engagement with like eighty other moms, and I’m responsible for bringing some sort of breakfast fare. Being so close to Valentine’s Day, it was suggested that the food fit in with the theme of the season, a.k.a. I threw some red sprinkles on top of the scones – that’s what St. Valentine was all about, right?

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