Cooking Is A Learned Skill

My husband can cook. Sorta. He's generally my prep guy when I need one, and his part of the bargain involves doing the dishes that I've dirtied with my cooking and baking.

One of my favorite stories involves him needing diced tomatoes for a recipe he was determined to cook himself. I had a can of whole tomatoes but none diced. He couldn't use the whole tomatoes (for a recipe that would end up pureed). It made me giggle - cooking is all about the adjustments and the improvisation, but you don't know that if you don't live it.

The other day, he was making pancakes for the wee ones. I happened to come downstairs as he was measuring dry ingredients into a bowl. I watched him carefully dip the measuring spoon into the baking powder and pull out a mounded teaspoon. Gingerly, he tried to use his finger to try to scrape off the excess back into the can. Not surprisingly, he missed with a good portion of the baking powder, and it spilled onto the counter.

I watched in silence, with my jaw hanging open.

Maybe it was because my mom's best and most frequent cooking with my sister and I was chocolate chip cookies. I had that recipe memorized by the time I was four or so. She made it with us all the time, and she taught me everything from how to break an egg to how to mix the dry ingredients.

Apparently she also taught me a skill that I didn't even realize was a skill. She taught me how to properly measure out baking powder (and soda, for that matter). There is a handy straight edge on the top of each container. You simply drag a full teaspoon along the edge, and voila - a perfectly measured teaspoon!

I've now taught my husband this skill, but not before giggling at him a little. It really reinforces how many things are taught when it comes to cooking, so many things that I luckily take for granted.

But that doesn't mean it doesn't make me snicker at my husband anyway. Yep, I'm definitely a bad person.

Can I get you to tweet once a day for me so I can win a Super Bowl Party with Flatout Wraps pretty please? Just tweet this daily: I think @honestandtruly would make a fabulous @FlatoutBread Super Bowl party host! http://bit.ly/f9w6wN #FlatoutSB (And thanks!)

He Is Not A Football Fan

I'm currently in Seattle for a good friend from college's wedding, which has been great so far. I love seeing people happy. Earlier this week, we were emailing back and forth on plans for the three days I'm spending out here and other such necessities. Part of this exchange has not stopped me from laughing, and I really need to share.

Me:
blah blah blah (rest of the email)

And I can search online for where to watch the NU game (as I'm assuming it's not on "normal" tv this week, especially not in Seattle!).

Friend:
I'm not sure. I think the Seattle alumni club is pretty well defunct. I haven't been to any events with them in awhile. I'm not sure there's an NU bar anymore.

Me:
I'll try other means, thanks. Hey -- if we go warm weather and if I can get sufficient tickets, would you go bowling with us or no chance? And IF is a big statement right now, I know, but Tempe is a possibility....

Friend:
Ask me about Tempe in 10 days... I say YES of course but (future wife) will say AAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH! I think bowling is very unlikely for me this weekend. I'm thinking about maybe going flying on Friday am. Any interest?

Screeeech! Wait, what? I never mentioned bowling this weekend. I mentioned Tempe and bowling together, and he has them totally separated. I'm talking about football. I'm talking about Northwestern. I'm talking about warm weather bowling and Tempe. I didn't realize I was making too huge a leap for someone who drove from Chicago to Pasadena to go to the Rose Bowl in 1996. Apparently the intervening 12 years have been difficult on his memory.

I did clear up the confusion in the next email, while only poking a small amount of fun at him for thinking I wanted to go pins and balls bowling with him on the weekend of his wedding. The good news is that it sounds like he's totally in, assuming we go to a bowl he's interested in. The Motor City Bowl may not exactly be his cup of tea. Here's hoping we put Michigan and Illinois in the win column.

As a side note, yes, he really meant flying like airplane flying. His plane. He has his pilot's license and typically meets me for vacations by flying on his own there. I'm not at all jealous of him though, I swear.

So would you have figured out that I was talking about going to a bowl game, or was I being too hard on him? Either way, I'm still giggling about it. And it's six days later.

Yeah, I Knew That

Tonight, my husband was helping Mister Man with his shower while I got Little Miss into bed and read her Peter Pan (again).

Daddy: Ok, Mister Man, I've got your back and your neck. Can you scrub all the rest of your body?
Mister Man: Where do I need to wash?
Daddy: Everything.
Mister Man: What's everything?
Daddy: Your entire body. All the parts of it.
Mister Man: Even my private parts?
Daddy: Yes, you pen1s and your test1cles and everything need to be washed.
Mister Man: Daddy, do you have a pen1s and test1cles?
Daddy: Yes, why?
Mister Man: Do girls have pen1ses and test1cles?
Daddy: No, they have different equipment.
Mister Man: I know that, Daddy. I was just making sure you did, too.

Ahhh, the joys of parenting small children.

Out Of The Mouths Of Babes...

I know I need to do a better job tracking what cracks me up about my kids. Just this weekend, they put on quite a show…

Little Miss (the girl after my own heart): Look! I got MONEY!

This after taking inventory of the basket the Easter Bunny (grandma) had left her. She of course opened the egg that contained the $1 bill first. That was definitely the most excited she was over any item in the basket. And she’s 2. Gotta love it!

Mister Man: Does T-O-T-O spell toilet?

Yep, it took me awhile to figure this one out, too. I finally figured out why he thought T-O-T-O was how you spelled toilet about 5 minutes after explaining how toilet was spelled. He couldn’t explain to me why he thought it was T-O-T-O, of course. I eventually realized that we put in new toilets last year after he potty trained and we realized the original low flow toilets weren’t meant to handle the toilet paper a newly trained kid tosses in there. The new toilets? The Toto Drake. On the back of the toilet is the manufacturer name, so the kid spends how many minutes every day standing there staring at “Toto” while doing his business. Smart boy, no?

Me: Do you trust me?

Little Miss: No, I do not trust you.

Little Miss was playing in her seat and dawdling eating her food, so I said I’d eat it for her. She didn’t approve of that and decided she was going to eat it after all. I was still holding the fork with a bit of her food on it, and she preferred that I give her the fork back, so the above question was asked. Again, smart girl, no? I wouldn’t trust me either!

Mister Man: (after looking around with a worried and quite perplexed look on his face) Where’d Grandpa go? Did he die?

This is a logical question when you’ve been just eating breakfast with someone and they disappear, right? I, of course, was horrified, as he asked this question to my MIL with me the only other adult nearby. Grandpa, in fact, had gone back to take a nap after breakfast (really, don’t ask about their eating or sleeping habits… it’s a little depressing) and was just fine. He isn’t fascinated by death, so this was quite the unusual question, but fortunately Grandma thought it was hilarious and cracked up.

Little Miss: (with a quite officious tone of voice) This is a nice park. I can play here.

On Friday, the nice 70 degree day in St Louis, the kids got to walk over to the park near my in-laws’ house and play for awhile. Apparently Little Miss is the arbiter of parks and it wasn’t until she announced this that Mister Man was able to run off and have fun. Any guess who is the boss in this household?

Mister Man: Go back! Go backwards, Mommy! Go back!

On the car ride home last night, I was scrolling through the radio stations to find some music that the kids could listen to, as it was too dark to read their CD books anymore. Some songs I’d heard of and others I hadn’t, but nothing really struck my fancy. Mister Man, on the other hand, apparently had heard a song he had to listen to. What so captivated him? The Beastie Boys’ No Sleep ‘Til Brooklyn. And nope, to my knowledge, he’d never heard that song before. Apparently his taste in music comes from his dad.

Little Miss: (this to my mom who lives near us) Grandma, I don’t want you to be sad. Why don’t you come to St Louis with us? It’s ok if you come, too.

Awwww. What a sweetheart! ‘Nuf said!