Feeding My Boychick

This is not a food blog, because food blogs always have pictures and they are usually nice. It is, however, a blog about food, sometimes with crappy photos.

Sister site to Raising My Boychick.
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Best French toast:

A few eggs (1 egg = 1-4 pieces of French toast, depending on you, your bread, and dip time)

Splash of milk (or cream, or substitute)

Capful vanilla extract

Liberal shake of dried orange peel

Liberal shake of ground cinnamon

Fresh ground nutmeg

Fresh ground black pepper

(Why fresh ground those but preground cinnamon? No idea; use what you have)

Dash or two of salt

Spoon or three of sugar (may substitute maple syrup or honey, but watch the cooking temp with those, especially the honey)

Whisk well with a fork, but don’t worry about getting a uniform texture. Dip a slice of bread in (a word of adoration here for Dave’s Killer Nuts and Grains Bread), flip to get both sides, then immediately put on hot buttered pan or griddle. Rotate once before flipping, if your stove heats unevenly like mine.

Eat. You can use syrup or whatever, but I get ill if I have that much pure sugar in the morning, and trust me, this doesn’t need it.

Offered to bring French bread and ice cream.

Homemade eggnog with home grown eggs. You may weep bitter tears of envy now.

Recipe:

Three eggs, separated.

Whip egg whites with 1-2T sugar until peaks form.

In larger bowl, whip egg yolks with 1/8-1/4c sugar until very pale and viscous.

Add 1T rum (white, though spiced may be substituted), 1 pint half and half: stir.

Fold in egg whites thoroughly.

Serve with freshly grated nutmeg.

Serves 2 adults and 1-2 small children.

(Yes, it is raw. Yes, I give it to my kids. Yes, my life is better for saying yes to infinitesimal risk.)

They’re orange. Not sure whether the freshness or bugs and greens make the bigger difference. I suspect freshness. Because the Timechooks mostly live on feed and bananas. (Seriously. I think we’re farming radioactive eggs. Vulva Baby loves peeling bananas almost as much as Nyssa, Mel, and Mickey (née Leela) love eating them. Result: they eat a LOT of bananas.)

So sick.

As in ill.

As in a virus has invaded my corporeal form and my immune system is valiantly throwing itself upon it like scrawny Steve before he did all those steroids and got the invincible shield.

I’m a little loopy.

Pho has taught me that beef tripe is weird and beef tendon is fucking awesome and totally worth the tripe. I dunno, trust me on that one.

I have ODed in the past two days on “natural” wannabe-cheetos, cashews, frozen white chocolate chips, German butter biscuits, and donuts. The first four are because chewing crunchy foods helps my ears feel better. I have no excuse for the donuts, except 1. donuts, and 2. they were there.

I would kill for a bowl of roasted brussel sprouts, but I don’t have the energy to chop them.

I made broccoli mac’n’cheese just for the crunch of the broccoli.

I would mainline hot chai except it would perforce skip my throat thereby defeating the purpose.

There are approximately 583804 Vietnamese restaurants within two miles of here and not a single one will deliver me pho. I could weep, but my eyes are too scratchy. Probably from lack of pho.

Enchiladas, take two. Filling: chicken, onion, mushrooms, carrots, broccoli, garlic, and pre-baked sweet potato. Mixed the enchilada packet with about a cup of peanut butter to top (helped cut the saltiness of the sauce, too), then cheddar and colby jack. Made a full 9x13 pan this time (10 corn tortillas), so we have a ton leftover. Will definitely nom again.

I have the strongest desire today to start chicken stock, beans, yams, chickpeas… Basically all the stocking-up pre-cooking I could possibly need for the next week/month/whenever. Maybe this is what happens when I don’t have a major looming deadline.

besoka:

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“How to Make Hash” is a great way to start off my new Tumblr, since I named the blog a Swedish word, and since I started getting really into hash after visiting Sweden in 2011 for my best friend’s wedding. Swedes are adorable and amazing, and they call hash “Pytt i Panna.” The idea is to use…

This is my queen and my priestess and in any fair society my future president. But in my heart, I will always call her Head Hashhole.

Pepitas and peanut butter chips.