Mother's Day, cont.

My Mother's Day gift from Jordan was well worth the wait. He made me a book. As always, you can click on images to make them bigger.

My mom

My mom has brown eyes. She likes to red books and cook.

(That is a picture of me in my favorite chair.)

My mom helps me do my homework. My mom works as a physisitst.

(On the left, that's us at the dining room table. On the right, I'm giving a talk! See how I have a projector and a screen that hangs from the ceiling, and my arm is sweeping toward the screen, and there is a big audience? This knocks me out! How does he know all that?)

My mom is speshel because she loves me. My mom makes lasagna. 

(Actually, I rarely make lasagna because the children are not fans. But I do often make pizza, and it seems to me that the mom in the picture might be holding a pizza cutter.)

My mom is smart. She knows about every food. My mom is wondeful, smart, and talented.

(I asked Jordan what I am doing in the picture on the right, and he said, "Working on a paper." Far out.)

Your son, Jordan. Age 7.

(He is into drawing apple-picking scenes lately. I love the basketball hoop on the right.)

This is so precious! I especially love how much of it is specific to me, not just general nice things. I am fascinated and moved to learn how he perceives me. Reader, cook, speaker, writer, physisitst. I feel both seen and loved.

Mother's Day

I won't pretend that Mother's Day is one of my better holidays. When your own mom died before your kids were born, it's always going to be a day that hurts. But as the years go on I do find that more and more, I think of myself more as the mother. And my family is pretty terrific. And they love me, so I would like to let them show their appreciation.

The weather this weekend has been pretty inspiring -- some of the first really deliciously warm days we have had this spring. On Saturday we went to Golden Gardens (with what seemed like half the rest of Seattle, including a number of people we know) and had a picnic dinner. The boys are crazy about sand and had a great time burying each other.

Then they dug a big hole and buried Jordan vertically knee-deep, so that he was the same height as Aaron. Pretty funny.

Even funnier when it was Aaron's turn in the hole.

On Sunday, we had a luxurious breakfast and Aaron presented me with Mother's Day gifts he had made at school: a beautiful card with a picture of me, and a decoupaged vase.

I think I look a little worried, and I'm amused that he thinks of my hair as being that long; but I love the picture. The card says, "I like the yummy pizza that mommy makes. Aaron." (For Jordan, we will extend Mother's Day to tomorrow afternoon, so that he can give me what he made at school and left in his locker.)

In the afternoon, Dale led the boys in an extraordinary activity, which was to thoroughly clean both cars. Here they are digging out lord knows what from under the seats. 

And here is Aaron playing fireman to help wash the outside.

Okay, Dale did most of the work, but he gave the boys the pleasure of contributing. And wow, what a great gift! They were pulling stuff out of there that has been there for years. Like Cheerios. We're in a whole different phase of life now, one that does not involve Cheerios in the back seat. I am not entirely thrilled about how old I seem to be lately, but I do welcome the end of the Age of Cheerios. There is more opportunity for self-respect when your youngest is almost five.

Before heading over to Sue's for a family dinner, the boys made cards for other mothers. Aaron made this for Grandma: 

And Jordan constructed this creative masterpiece for Aunt Kari, whose birthday was a few days ago. 

The rock-and-roll Jordan and Kari characters are pretty excellent, but my favorite is the picture of Aunt Kari holding hands with a piece of candy. Kari was charmed too. 

Thanks to my family for making it a day with more love than anything else. And the sunshine was terrific.

Eat What's Here Month

When we decided to move from Maryland to Seattle, I was so eager, I started packing a year in advance. One of the things I decided early on was that I was not going to ship food across the country. Why move it when we could eat it? And what's it there for, if not to be eaten? For several weeks, I planned our weekly menus around what was already in the house, with an eye to actually consuming all of it. We did pretty well. And I liked doing it: It was frugal, it honored the food, and it was an interesting challenge.

So even though now we live in the perfect place and never want to move again, I have established April as Eat What's Here month. The goal is to clean out the pantry and freezer of all those things that have been there for who knows how long. Okay, yes, things like dry beans last forever, but not forever. And what about all that other stuff? This year a bunch of stale bread ends from the freezer became bread pudding, made with rice milk from a forgotten carton and the tail end of some milk powder I found in the bottom of a drawer. A half gallon bag of sliced farmer's market peaches, languishing in the back of the freezer with a smaller quantity of half-dehydrated tart pluots, became the filling for these granola-fruit sandwich bars. I even worked some random smokehouse almonds into the crust. Past successes have included tomato soup with dumplings made from leftover matzo ball soup mix; canned chili with cornbread, using up the last bit of cornmeal in the freezer; frozen chicken shiu mai, with veggies, served over sticky rice with bottled teriyaki sauce; canned soups with baked potatoes; canned baked beans with croquettes made from grits; and lentils and rice with caramelized onions (which is much more flavorful than it sounds).

This year I rose to a new level of challenge in that I not only had accumulated the usual whatever of my own, but had also inherited the contents of someone else's pantry. (Guess what? They moved to Texas, and didn't want to take the food with them.) I did not know what to do with these unidentified dried peppers. I tasted one and it was pretty sweet.

Facebook to the rescue! My now-Texan friend said: "Ancho peppers. Toast, seed, hydrate, then blend into a paste with spices, garlic and broth. Then you'll know what to do." I realized that I was about to make my own mole. That deep, pungent, sweet, smoky sauce was soon to be mine. And I became very excited. Because one of my passions, one of my things, is to make things from scratch that we normally think of as prepared foods. (Sometime I hope to tell you about the Marshmallow Madness.) Soon I was toasting the peppers, and my house smelled amazing.

The mole is extraordinary. And I have a lot. Would anyone like some? Because now I have something new in my freezer, and it won't last forever.

Ancho Chile Sauce
adapted from The Splendid Table

6 dried ancho chiles
5 garlic cloves, peels on
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon dried basil
1/4 teaspoon dried oregano
1/4 teaspoon cumin seeds
1 1/2 cups chicken broth
1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar
1 1/2 teaspoons vegetable oil or rendered bacon fat
2 medium onions, chopped medium fine
One 28-ounce can crushed tomatoes or pureed plum tomatoes
One 1-ounce chunk smoked ham, cut into pieces
1 tablespoon unsweetened cocoa powder
1 to 2 teaspoons sugar
Kosher salt

Toast the whole dried chiles in the oven for a few minutes. Stay nearby so that you can snatch them out of the oven as their smell becomes intoxicating. They will be all puffed up! Wow! Cool them, open them up, and discard the stems and seeds. Cover the pieces with boiling water and let soak for 20 minutes, or until softened.

Meanwhile, put the garlic cloves in a small heavy pan and toast for about 15 minutes. Shake occasionally. They are ready when the skins have blackened in spots and the garlic has softened. Peel the cloves and combine in a blender with the cinnamon, basil, oregano, cumin seeds, broth, and vinegar. Drain the ancho chiles and add to the blender. Blend at high speed until smooth.

Saute the onions until golden brown. Add the ancho chile mixture and cook, stirring, for 5 minutes. Stir in the tomatoes and ham, partially cover, and simmer until the sauce is very thick, about 25 minutes. Add the chocolate and simmer until the sauce is even thicker and has reduced to about 4 cups. Discard the ham (or not) and add the sugar and salt to taste. I'll say it again: Wow.