Things I Might Or Might Not Be Doing While I Wait

Hand to God, I am often the stupidest person I know. Also, one of the most easily amused.

In re-writing the lyrics to this song, I learned several things. One is that it looks like I am probably too old to fully enjoy a Snoop Dog concert anymore, which is too bad.

Another is that nothing really rhymes with "bonbons."

Here's the original:



"Sit Around" by Molly (with assistance from Dan)

See the couch, crawl on in,
Ain't no way I'll be thin.
Eat cookies by the tin
I know it's a sin
I'll tear the whole sack up and then I'll eat the backup.
Eat the jellyroll and your colon won't act up.
Sit down, grow round, don't put that pie down.
Got a spinning feeling staring at the ceiling,
Pancakes for breakfast, eggs you can dunk,
Extra butter on rye,
I think my pants have shrunk.
Feel 'em growing, thighs that are chunking,
I eat more times than cops in a Dunkin' Donuts shop.
Sugar Pops I got, I'm eatin' my fill
Plus an onion bagel with lox.

I came to sit down, I came to sit down,
So eat up, eat up and get round.
Get round!
Get round!
Eat up, eat up, choke it down!
Eat! Eat! Eat! Eat! Eat! (Etc.)

I got an ass like Fats Domino,
Shrimp, grits and gravy goin' down like a ho.
Word to your moms, I'm eatin' bonbons,
I got more juice than a bucket of prawns.
And like a cheeseburger that's never been turned
The pizza delivery man he never gets burned.
'Cause I got ice cream and you ain't got none,
And if you're trying to take it I got a shotgun.
But if you do, here's some gruel, 'cause it's all I got left
Don't step to me 'cause I'm all out of breath.
I gots the skillets, come and eat your fill
'Cause you might eat to live but I eat to kill.

I came to sit down, I came to sit down,
So eat up, eat up and get round.
Get round!
Get round!
Eat up, eat up and choke it down!
Eat! Eat! Eat! Eat! Eat! (Etc.)

Pie a la mode, ice cream on the top,
I like the buffet 'cause buffet never stops.
Or better yet, barbecues,
It's been so long since I've seen my shoes
I'm eating the Twinkies up in twos
But I'm not going out with a coronary
Gastric bypass is for the ordinary
I'll be up up and around
My weight's gonna be going down
Cleaned out the fridge and then you wake up in the CICU
I'm comin' to get fed, I'm comin' to get fed
Eating brownies with frosting and breakfast in bed.

I came to sit down, I came to sit down,
So eat up, eat up and get round.
Get round!
Get round!
Eat up, eat up, choke it down!
Eat! Eat! Eat! Eat! Eat! (Etc.)

Liveblogging the Bread

No, I don't have any pictures to show you. The lighting in my kitchen is appallingly bad and my camera is not a good enough one that it can make up for the bad lighting.

If you are just landing here, here is the recipe.

King Arthur Unbleached Bread Flour--I just happened to grab that before I found the all-purpose flour. I doubt that it makes a difference in this case.

Yeast: I used a very generous 1/4 teaspoon. Heaping, almost. I didn't have instant yeast, as called for in the recipe, so I made a couple of adjustments: that little extra bit of rapid rise, for example, and also adding about 1/8 teaspoon of sugar.

One of the blogs I saw (I think it may have been Smitten Kitchen, actually) suggests that 1/3 teaspoon of rapid rise yeast is the way to go. I may try that next time.

1 1/2 teaspoons table salt

Water: 1 5/8 cups of warm water.

I whisked the yeast, sugar, and water together in a big bowl this morning around 9. That's not a step that's called for in the recipe, but because the recipe also doesn't call for sugar and I wasn't using instant yeast, I wanted to give it a little head start.


Then I dumped in the flour, and, on top of the flour, the salt. Salt retards the action of yeast, which is why I dumped it on top. I have no idea if that made a difference at all.


I stirred it all together with a wooden spoon. The dough looked rough and shaggy, like the recipe says it should. I didn't find a picture of the what the dough should look like until later tonight, but when I did, it looked just like what I had made. So, I'm happy.


I let the dough rise without disturbing it for 12 hours. That seems to be the minimum rise time described by nearly every account on every website I looked at. At 9 tonight, the dough looked swollen, bubbly, and by all accounts, a great deal like it was supposed to. I was comfortable with punching it down at this point.


A small aside: I didn't actually punch it down. I dumped it out onto a very clean, well-floured countertop, and with wet hands (the flour/water ratio seems to be important here) I gave it a couple of turns, then tucked the ends under to make a (basically) smooth ball of dough.


I did the 15-minute rest that the Bittman recipe recommends. Not every website mentions this rest. I didn't know if it was important or not, but I did err on the side of caution in this case. Usually I prefer to err on the side of error. We'll see how this all plays out. Anyway--rested on the counter, lightly covered with plastic wrap.


I put the bread down for the second rise on a clean, well-floured cotton flour sack towel. They cost about $6 for five of them, and we bought a bunch of them when Max was a baby. He had reflux and a regular burp cloth was more like something for him to projectile-vomit past than an effective parenting tool. I covered it with another well-floured towel. As it turned out, flouring this towel wasn't really necessary, as the bowl I used was deep and the dough never rose that high. I did worry a little about the dough drying out and getting that funky skin on it as it rose, but it didn't.


I let it rise for a full 2 hours. At the 1 hour mark, I had Dan wash the Dutch oven. As I mentioned before, ours is used so often that it's rarely clean. At the half-hour mark, I cranked the oven to 450, wrapped the plastic handle on the lid in several layers of heavy-duty aluminum foil (the manufacturer says it's safe without it; again, erring on the side of caution) and slid the pot and lid into the oven to preheat.


Half an hour later, my kitchen smells odd. I should clean the oven more often.


I slide the pot out of the oven (using potholders! Big, thick ones. I think it's almost as important to have faith in your potholders as your spouse, and to not have that faith betrayed. You'll never again trust either a cheating spouse or a half-assed potholder; ask anyone who's had either) and take off the lid. The pot, which went into the oven dry, releases a puff of slightly odd-smelling steam. Okaaay.


This dough is extremely sticky. Following one blogger's advice, I put a big square of parchment paper over the mouth of the pot, then go to dump the bread onto the parchment, where, it is my hope, that it will all collapse into the pot. Not so: the dough is firmly stuck to the bottom towel, the one I had faithfully floured so thoroughly. I coax/peel/squish the dough off the towel and onto the parchment, carefully not burning myself on the extremely hot pot. Lid on, and into the oven.


"Is everything okay in there?" Dan asks as I shut the oven door. "Those are some...interesting smells." I love the smell of napalm in the morning. I set the timer for 30 minutes, and after some consideration (our oven does run a little hot) I back the temperature down to 425 and contemplate how to get all of the stuck-on dough off the towel without it destroying our washing machine. It's a question for another day.


The funky smell has faded from the kitchen by the time the timer goes off. I take the lid off the pot for the first time, not sure what I'll find. This part is embarassing to me. When I see what's in the pot, I actually utter the following phrase out loud:


"Oh, Daddy."


Lightly golden brown all over, slightly craggy and rustic-looking, yet expertly rounded, the half-baked loaf of bread is like something out of a very good, very expensive bakery. This is the appearance I had in mind when I got it into my head to bake bread: something that would impress the shit out of people. The last time I got this feeling was the first time I held Max after he was born: I can't believe I did this. It's what passes for cautious optimism around here. For the first time since changing my major from photojournalism to print journalism at the end of my freshman year of college, I regret not being a more skilled photographer.


At the 14-minute mark, I go back to the kitchen, take out a wire cooling rack, and set it on the counter. I open the oven door and make a noise I don't quite recognize--probably because I don't watch a lot of porn. The bread is...it's everything I hoped it would be. The crust is crackling and deeply golden.


My only regret, so far, besides not flouring the towel sufficiently, is that I have to wait until tomorrow morning to cut into this thing.


This morning, I walk into the kitchen and lift the towel I've draped over the loaf--it offers no protection whatsoever, but it makes me feel better for some reason. The crust has retained every ounce of its crisp character. It looks...just like bread should look when it's exactly right. It's a thing of beauty. I use a serrated knife to pierce the crust, and before I've even sliced a piece off, I can feel that the crumb is light, tender, airy, and yet substantial. Again, what it should look like when it's exactly right. Into the toaster it goes.

And I eat the toast with butter. It's the best loaf of bread I've ever made, by a long shot. It is not a perfect loaf of bread. It is just a tiny bit salty. While I'd never describe the inside as "gummy," like a few people have, the interior does have a certain...dampness, but not in an unpleasant way. I'm not sure how to describe it. Flavorwise, it's incredibly deep, developed, intensely yeasty. The flavor that long slow rise imparts is like seeing color TV for the first time. It changes how I feel about bread.

As far as what I'd compare it to: maybe a good ciabatta bread. Wonderbread it ain't. I think it would make an incredible sandwich, maybe one with cold leftover roast pork loin sliced thin, a little caramelized onion relish, grainy mustard; or smoked deli turkey, very thinly sliced granny smith apple, sharp cheddar, butter lettuce, and mayonnaise. I'm telling you, I could start a sandwich revolution. I also think it would make some seriously special garlic bread.

So, next time (which will probably be today, because I am just this kind of person), I will step the yeast up to 1/3 of a teaspoon and leave out the sugar. I will dial the salt back to 1 1/8 tsp. I will do the second rise on parchment. I will probably do 1/2 bread flour and 1/2 all purpose, just to see what the difference is.

At some point in the future, I'd like to acquire an oval dutch oven (mine is round) in a 3 1/2 quart or 4 quart size, to make more loaf-shaped loaves. I am very fond the one I have, but a smaller, more narrow one might make sense. I'd also like to try some add-ins: maybe kalamata olives and fresh rosemary, sun-dried tomatoes and basil, fresh thyme and grated romano cheese.

The bread is a very-nearly-unqualified success.

A Non-Exhaustive List of Stuff I Want to Cook Before The New Girl Comes and it's All I Can Do to Just Stand Upright

I recently discovered Smitten Kitchen and have added it to my ever-expanding repetoire of food blogs that I read. Go there, right now, and browse through her recipes. They're amazing, really, and so are her photos.

I love to read about food and cooking. It's sort of like porn--there's a lot of descriptions and pictures of things that may or may not turn me on and serve as inspiration, but are probably not literally appropriate or good for me, and that I'll never even attempt to do.

That's not what I'm putting on this list. I'm putting things on this list that I am actually going to do. In a frighteningly short amount of time, my life is going to become increasingly more complicated and I won't have time or space or wherewithall to do a lot of them.


The first item on the list is Mark Bittman's No-Knead Bread. It has gotten quite a lot of exposure on the internet and lots of foodies have been making it with some great results. I love making bread, it makes me feel productive and frugal and also, I love bread. I've also made some disasterous bread, the latest of which should be idiot-proof but is no match for me: America's Test Kitchen's Rustic Country Bread. This bread bakes up big and flat and heavy every single time I make it. It's not inedible, but it's not what I have in mind, and no amount of fiddling that I do fixes it. So I have the no-knead bread beginning its long, slow rise this morning in my pantry in the hopes of making a basic yet delicious loaf of bread that's not leaden and dull, or full of fat like this one (to be fair, that last link is to some really incredibly delicious bread, but it's also far more complicated than I think a loaf of white sandwich bread should be to make yourself, and also requires things like a lot of whole milk and melted, cooled butter.)

If you'd like to make bread too, try the no-knead recipe with me. You need a big, heavy, cast-iron pot with a lid. I have one similar to this one. I bought it at Target, but it's no longer available. This seems to be the closest thing to it. If you don't own this pot, or a similar one to it, and you're balking at the price, let me just reassure you that you will use this pot a lot. Ours is rarely clean because we use it so often. You can also spend a whole lot more on a similar pot from Le Crueset or other expensive sources, if you really want to, but the differences are pretty minimal. If you want some other kind of bread to make, try this one instead. It's delicious, although it's a bird of a whole different color.

The next thing I want to make is Smitten Kitchen's 44-clove garlic soup. I know what you're thinking: Casa Nonhipster must have a vampire infestation. Really, though, one of the greatest things about garlic is that it has multiple personalities. It can be punchy and edgy or sweet and mellow, and in either incarnation, it speaks to me. Right now is the perfect time for comfort food like this soup. The weather's in the 50's; it's sorta like spring here, but not really. Spring is the perfect time for garlic. Well, really, anytime's a good time for garlic. Except, maybe, for a date. Or a job interview.

Want some more garlic-flavored inspiration? Start with Ree's garlic cheese bread. Incidentally, if you're not reading The Pioneer Woman Cooks, you're missing some of the best food writing on the internet, not to mention some of the most unrepentantly silly. Another reason to like her: she does a great job of illustrating her recipes, so you get to learn great, smart, basic techniques like the easiest way to chop an onion (seriously! So easy!) and see how things look in progress. Also, this is one of my favorite dishes ever. Do yourself a favor and buy yourself some really great extra virgin olive oil. I recommend Lucini, which is a brand that's available in a lot of grocery stores. There is a lot of terrible olive oil out there, and so a lot of people don't really understand what a life-changing experience the right olive oil can be. Don't cook with it--it degrades the oil and all that amazing flavor is wasted. Dip your bread in it, use it in salad dressings, drizzle it over hot pasta. Better yet, look for a specialty food store that holds tastings of olive oils.

If some other kind of soup sounds more to your liking, one of my favorite things ever is French onion soup. This is the little black dress of food, in my mind: simple, classic, timeless, always appropriate, elegant and flawless. America's Test Kitchen does this really well; this is their updated recipe via Cookography. I won't bother with a recipe beside this one; none I've ever seen is as good as this one, but I will say that when the onions are in the oven, I would stir them a little more often than the recipe recommends, maybe every half-hour or so. This time frame beats the pants off the hours and hours of standing over the stove, stirring pounds of sliced onions, in my mind.

Third on my list: Chicken-fried steak. Larry McMurtry, one of my mother's favorite authors, once said "Only a rank degenerate would drive 1,500 miles across Texas without eating a chicken-fried steak." I'm thinking that only a rank degenerate would go through this entire pregnancy without eating a chicken-fried steak, and I am just a regular degenerate, not the other kind. I have made chicken-fried steak before. It's not for the faint of heart. It's hard work, messy, with a lot of steps, and it's the kind of thing that makes you feel totally satisfied and yet bad about yourself afterwards. It's so easy to do badly, and yet when you put your back into it, it's almost equally easy to do well. We're not talking about rocket science here: it's a cheap cut of beef, tenderized with a meat pounder, dredged through seasoned breading, fried, and served with cream gravy and mashed potatoes. It is a thing of beauty, a very basic and yet totally irresistable thing of beauty.

I'm don't remember which recipe I've used in the past, or if I used one at all. This time around, I might try Homesick Texan's recipe. I really wish there was a recipe for chicken-fried steak on Pioneer Woman Cooks; this is cowboy food and who knows better how to feed a cowboy than a cowboy's wife? Sadly, there isn't one. America's Test Kitchen, which serves as the Holy Grail of food in my house, may have a recipe. I'm not going to get up and go look right now though, because I am currently sitting in one of the few comfortable positions that this pregnancy affords me. But before this baby comes, I will have homemade chicken fried steak, cream gravy, homemade mashed potatoes, and glazed carrots with brown sugar, pecans, and bacon. And a salad. Because, as I'm sure you can tell, I am all about the healthy eating.

If you feel like frying things, I am coming over to your house. Just kidding. No I'm not. Yes I am. But no I'm not. Anyway, if you feel like frying things, one of my very favorite food bloggers, Kim from The Yummy Mummy Cooks Gourmet recently made fried calamari. She also made these chicken fingers. I am also very partial to this firecracker fried chicken from Cook's Country, although it's really pretty complicated and messy. What's neither complicated nor messy: fried artichoke hearts, something I don't have a recipe for except for this: drain a can of artichoke hearts thoroughly. Season about a cup of all-purpose flour with a teaspoon of salt, a half-teaspoon of black pepper, and a little cayenne, and toss the artichoke hearts in the flour until well-coated. Heat a generous half-cup of vegetable oil in whatever pan you typically use for frying--I like a deep cast-iron skillet because it holds the heat well and you can fit a lot of food in it--over medium-high heat until the oil is shimmering. Carefully drop in about eight artichoke hearts, and use tongs to move them around until they are golden-brown on all sides. Remove from the oil and let drain on a plate lined with paper for a few minutes. Sprinkle with kosher salt and, if you like, finely grated parmesan cheese. These are pure wonderful. See if you can actually make it out of the kitchen with these, or if you just stand there at the counter and eat the whole batch yourself. Don't worry. I won't tell.

The next thing on my list is a potato galette. I'll probably use the recipe from Fine Cooking.com. I love how this is almost like a potato gratin, but more constructed, and almost like pommes Anna, but less fussy and with the added elements of shallots, rosemary, and cheese. I don't own a tart pan, because I don't bake a whole lot, but I do own a nice non-stick 9-inch cake pan that I'll probably employ for this use. When I was in college, my friend Ryan invited me to his home in Western New York for fall break one year, and his mother made this amazing dish that they referred to as "yummy potatoes," and indeed, they were incredibly yummy. This galette reminds me a little of that, only less rich and creamy and over-the-top.

If you've now got potatoes on the brain, let me steer you back to Ree's place (Ha!! Steer! Ree, who lives on a cattle ranch! Get it? Steer?!! Oh...forget it.) and these twice-baked potatoes. Also at Pioneer Woman Cooks: these roasted potatoes from her friend Kay.

Like the title says, this list in no way represents every single thing I want to cook between now and the end of June, when The New Girl will put in an expected appearance. But creating a new human being seems to have stoked my creative fires a little, and I'm wanting to stretch my culinary muscles a little, make and consume things that I don't get a lot of. Maybe this is how my nesting instinct is manifesting itself this time around. At any rate, I promise to update you on what I make, how it turns out, and in general, what happens around here. I may not have a lot of money, time, or patience, but I do have a lot of fun.

To All the Sandwiches I've Loved Before

I like sandwiches.

I have no idea when in my life I determined that a sandwich was a thing of beauty, but I have loved sandwiches from way back. Seriously, what is better than a sandwich? When it's done right, it's an amalgamation of textures and a marriage of tastes that are so much greater than the sum of their parts.

One of the first meals I fed my husband that really sealed the deal for him was a meatball sub. The process of making these subs was involved--hollowing out individual French loaves, then toasting and grinding the bread from the hollowing-out into fresh bread crumbs. Mixing the bread crumbs with ground beef, eggs, parmesan cheese, garlic, fresh herbs, salt and pepper, then forming and baking enormous (think nearly-baseball-sized) meatballs on racks in the oven. Simmering the meatballs in homemade tomato sauce, then nestling them lovingly in the hollowed-out bread with sauce, smoked provelone cheese, and then broiling them to create sandwiches, perfect, golden, toasty sandwiches. You may think this sounds like a lot of fuss to go through for a guy who I hadn't dated for more than a few weeks; in my opinion, a great sandwich is never too much effort. Also, I was 27 at the time; I was starting to feel the pressure to go ahead and land myself a husband. Anyway, as you can tell, it was worth it.

I've met very few sandwiches I haven't liked. When I was younger, my mother used to make sandwiches from sliced, salted radishes with cream cheese on wheat bread. Delicious. One of my favorite scenes from a movie, any movie, is the movie "Spanglish," when Adam Sandler, who plays a chef, comes home from work late at night and makes himself a sandwich in his own kitchen: a decadent and slightly over-the-top concoction created by Thomas Keller, chef of Napa Valley's restaurant French Laundry for the movie's creator, consisting of toasted rustic country bread, mayonnaise, thick-cut bacon, butter lettuce, tomatoes, Monterey Jack cheese, and a fried egg. Watching the single-minded dedication that his character puts into it is inspirational, especially when you consider that after a night in a restaurant kitchen, the reward of getting to sit down and eat that sandwich made it all worthwhile. One of the best things about moving home to Kalamazoo, Michigan, will be being close to Main Street Pub, the restaurant where Dan proposed to me, where they make an open-faced sandwich--its name escapes me at the moment--of toasted rye bread, ham, turkey, tomato slices, cheddar, and homemade blue cheese dressing, all broiled together. A friend of ours used to manage the Pub, and he told us once he had invented that sandwich as a hangover cure for the restaurant staff.

I've written about sandwiches before--plenty. Mostly here; also here (that Thomas Keller thing), and here. I want to know about your favorite sandwich. My favorite sandwich is hummus, very thinly sliced red onions, cucumbers, chopped kalamata olives, diced very ripe tomatoes, crumbled feta cheese and sliced avocado on a good-quality flour tortilla, wrapped up like a burrito, and sliced in half. When the tomatoes are really good, like in about August, I like a BLT too, with a few leaves of basil and some sliced fresh mozzerella, on good toasted bread with mayonnaise.

What's your perfect sandwich? It can be anything; use your imagination. A sandwich is way more than just a couple of slices of deli meat slapped between bread; the only way to screw up a sandwich, in my opinion, is to fall down on the job and assume that a sandwich is boring. Leave me your favorite sandwich in the comments.

A Seemingly Random, Yet Loosely Related Series of Things That Don't Suck

Today is the first day of my reincarnation as a stay-at-home mother. It only sort-of counts, since Dan is on Spring Break this week and home with us, but I am making a concerted effort to not talk about how much it sucks--indeed, I am trying to make it not suck at all in fact--and so, instead I'll talk about some other things.

Twitter: I am loving Twitter. I am forced to be pithy, witty, and, because my mother follows me on Twitter, I am also forced to be appropriate. Neither of these things come naturally to me, so it's a little like having enrolled myself in boot camp. I still hope my mother doesn't know about this blog, because if she does, I will have to stop talking about her behind her back.

"Chuck": Is anyone watching this show? It is funny and sorta edgy in a good way (executive producer is McG, of the first "Charlie's Angels" movie, the one without Demi Moore, the one that didn't suck) and smart and and tech-y, and the girls in it literally kick ass. Go to www.thewb.com and watch the first season of it, then to www.hulu.com and watch the most recent seven or eight episodes of it, then try to catch up with the other episodes of it, and you'll see some really swell guest stars, like Michael Duncan Clarke and Nicole Ritchie and the guy who played the heroin-addict rock star on "Lost" whose name I can't remember; I think he got killed off awhile ago but I quit watching "Lost" because, oh my crap, I seriously can't follow that show at all. Nothing has ever made me feel quite as stupid as "Lost," except maybe "Philosphy and Religion of the Modern Western World," a course I took as part of my honors humanities semester in college. I somehow managed to get in to college; this course made me think I wasn't smart enough to have finished kindergarten.

Bargain Lunch: I bought two cans of Progresso Tomato-Basil soup (10 for $10 at Safeway this weekend) and a bag of Barilla Three-Cheese Tortellini ($2.49.) I cooked and drained the pasta, then stirred it into the soup over medium heat. I added a little chopped fresh basil, freshly ground black pepper, a pinch of crushed red pepper flakes, and a little parmesan cheese I found in the back of the fridge when I was cleaning it out this weekend. I have two meals, easily, for $4.49 plus the cost of whatever I already had on hand, and it's rich and filling and delicious. I also think it would be delicious with some chopped pepperoni thrown in there, but if we had any pepperoni in the house, I would just be sitting on the couch eating it. Obviously.

Doughnuts: I recently discovered Laurel Tavern Doughnuts, a tiny little doughnut joint in our town. It is run by an Asian family who only makes about six varieties of doughnut, but they are so incredibly good I may not ever go to Krispy Kreme again. These doughnuts are seriously made out of...I don't know. Angel feathers and pictures of kittens and puppies, I guess. They are light, perfectly crisp, tender, and completely perfect in every way imaginable, and I could eat probably eight of them at a sitting, especially the blueberry doughnuts. That's right, you heard me. We've been there twice in three days. They're also cheaper than Krispy Kreme by half.

Naptime: Does this require an explanation?

Day 11: Guilty

I don't have a lot of guilty pleasures. Pleasure is not something I typically feel guilty about. However, if I had to name one, I'd have to say that my single biggest one is White Castle hamburgers. I would drive a pretty significant distance out of my way for a White Castle burger. Not a cheeseburger, not a double cheeseburger, just a regular old White Castle, with the dehydrated onions and totally limp and exhausted dill pickle slices on them.

I am making myself hungry.

Day 2: Chicken Fajitas

I love to cook for people and I have loved Mexican food for as long as I can remember, really good, spicy Mexican food. I would die happy, as long as I drowned in a bucket of guacamole. One of my favorite things ever is the chicken flautas meal from Mi Ranchito in Kalamazoo, Michigan--the one on Westnedge, which is now closed, was much better than the one in Oshtemo. I am firmly of the opinion that almost any food is made better when it's wrapped in a warm tortilla and dribbled with pico de gallo.

One of the first really great meals that I ever made for other people was chicken fajitas. I used a recipe from a cookbook called The Well-Filled Tortilla. I liberated that cookbook from my mother's house when I went to college. The recipe could not be more simple. Put a boneless, skinless chicken breast between two pieces of heavy-duty plastic wrap (a heavy-duty freezer bag works really well) and pound it with a meat mallet until it's thin--like 1/4 inch or thinner. Unwrap it and sprinkle it on both sides with salt and chili powder--just regular old chili powder from the grocery store. Heat a couple teaspoons of olive oil in a non-stick skillet over medium high heat for a few minutes, until the oil is shimmering, and then lay the chicken in the pan. Cook it on the first side for a couple of minutes, maybe three. Turn it over and cook it another couple of minutes. Pull it out of the pan and slice the chicken into thin slices, wrap it in a couple of warm flour tortillas with whatever toppings you happen to like, and eat it. I like mine with sour cream thinned with a tablespoon or so of lime juice stirred in, chopped cilantro, pico de gallo, and a little crumble of cheese.

You can make this for a huge crowd of people--just make more chicken and warm more tortillas and have lots of toppings to choose from; people will sit around making themselves fajitas all night. You can do the same basic thing with thinly sliced steak (bottom round works great, and is cheap), pork tenderloin (cut it into half-inch rounds and pound it), a mixture of portabello mushrooms, red onion and bell peppers (slice them before you cook them), or shrimp (don't slice them, just season them, saute them, and serve them). It's a simple way to cook for a crowd, and it's practically impossible to screw it up.

Dear Anthony Bourdain: Will You Marry Me?

I once had a conversation via email with Goon Squad Sarah about Anthony Bourdain, about how he was like that guy in high school that you got totally drunk at a party with once and made out with a little, and who then broke your teenage heart when he didn't talk to you the next day in school, and then broke it again when your best friend marched up to him (he was smoking behind the baseball dugout) and asked him why he never called you, and he said that he didn't know your name, and then he hit on your friend. Sarah and I realized that we had actually known the same guys in high school, despite the fact that I grew up in Michigan and she grew up in Florida.

Lord love a duck, I am so hot for Anthony Bourdain. He is beautiful, has an incredibly sexy voice, has Distinguished Silver hair, and can cook like an unmitigated motherfucker. He does eat some of the most disgusting bits of the most disgusting animals I have ever seen in my entire life and I really disagree with him about Hung from Top Chef, but he is hot enough that I don't care. Witness:

Hi Tony. That's a nice...bone. And when I say bone, I mean...you know, bone.

Maybe one of the ten thousand reasons that I love him is the interview I just read with him, in which he says the following about Sandra Lee. You know, Sandra Lee from "Semi-Homemade With Sandra Lee", also known as "The Coming Apocalypse Starring The Food Network?"

On Sandra Lee: “Charles Manson and Betty Crocker’s love child. She gets that
glassy Squeaky Fromme look when she’s talking about her tablescapes. I want to
call security.”

The rest of the interview (which took place in Washington D.C.) can be found right here. We ran into him at Eastern Market when he was in town--this was quite a while ago now, but I did what I typically do when confronted with a famous stranger, which is to stare like I'm suffering from brain damage as he nods politely at me. I am smooth, I tell you.

NaBloPoMo Day 27: Thankful

I have an announcement brewing. I am not really ready to come out with it just yet, there are too many variables for it to be, you know, public knowledge, but soon, I think. Suffice it to say that today, a day that we are so focused on gratitude, thanksgiving is something that is really resounding with me.

Our lives are so complicated and challenging, and they become more so all the time. The challenges multiply all the time, and we live in a time where easy answers are rare and there are no real black-and-white issues anymore, and the shades of grey fade into each other in ways that defy us as citizens and human beings and children of the universe. When gas prices are high and unemployment is even higher, we're frightened of each other and we're troubled by what we see on the news, we focus on what we want and what we need, not so much on what we already have.

This has been a challenging and, in a lot of ways, frightening year for me. There've been highs and lows and every time I have found myself up against a wall, there's been a way to re-frame the question and I can keep on going. Don't think I don't recognize the fact that I've been lucky, and resourceful, and that I've worked hard and kept my head above water, but never, ever has it all been about me.

This has been a year when I've had to re-define what "enough" meant to me. Our lives have undergone dramatic change, and they will undergo even more dramatic change, and I am constantly reminding myself that it is all manageable when I remain humble and grateful and loyal and constant.

I am grateful to my family, my boys, for their faith and fortitude. I am grateful to our parents, whose support is our foundation. I am grateful to our friends, the family we chose, who sustain us.

Today we celebrate our small victories. We enjoy the fruits of our labors. We remind each other of everything we've achieved. We prepare for what's ahead and remind ourselves that there will be more good times and more lean times and we'll be together again and the circumstances won't matter then either.

If only for today, be good to your family and your friends and your neighbors and yourself. Be kind to someone even if they don't seem to deserve it. Pay it forward. Remember that in an existence like this one, in a universe like ours, there are no mistakes, there are no accidents, only gifts and opportunities. Say thank you to someone who helps you, even if helping you is their job, even if they only think they've helped you. You might be the only one who says thank you to them all day.

I am thankful today, and I pledge to try to remember to be thankful tomorrow too, and the day after that, and the day after that. Thanks is something to aspire to, to work towards. I don't think about that nearly enough, caught up in my everyday, and I pledge to try harder.

NaBloPoMo Day 26: Unadvisable

To be filed under "Just Because You Can Doesn't Mean You Should":

Paula Deen's Deep-Fried Stuffing on a Stick

P.S. I wasn't aware of Paula Deen's working relationship with Smithfield Pork products, which is an absolute abomination of a factory farm, but I don't have to love her to shake my head in wonderment at the woman who's deep-fried a stick of butter, do I?

NaBloPoMo Day 25: Thanksgiving

My friend Chris is, I think, my evil twin. She and I have the same birthday and also we couldn't be more indifferent toward Thanksgiving food. She and her husband (Hi John!) moved here from Michigan also and aren't burdened with family for this particular upcoming holiday, so we're celebrating my usual non-traditional Thankgiving dinner together this year.

Here's the menu:

Artichoke Spinach dip and French bread toasts
Cheese spread and crackers
Veggies and homemade dill dip
Chips and homemade salsa
Cocktail meatballs and sausages
Steamed shrimp and cocktail sauce
Cookies and ice cream for dessert

See, it's all the good stuff about Thanksgiving, with the exception of stuffing. And gravy. But I really only like stuffing and gravy, everything else I'm indifferent at best to. Growing up, it took my mother a small eternity to get Thankgiving dinner on the table, and so she made a lot of the snackie-type stuff, and by the time it was time to eat, we'd all really filled up on the snacks, which tasted better anyway. So, I figured, why not just eat the good stuff and forget about the hassle?

Oh, and apple salad. Chris said she'd make apple salad, and I freakin' love apple salad. Now I'm ready to give thanks.

Oh, and regarding yesterday and Dan's eye: he's got a bacterial infection called a stye. They happen when fluid backs up in one of the glands in the eyelid and clogs. This one was a bad one, and it got infected and he now needs antibiotics for it, but it's improving quickly thanks to hot compresses and some gooey medicine that he has to put into his eye a couple of times a day. I'm sure you can imagine how much he loves that.

NaBloPoMo Day 22: Jackass

So far today I've been accused by my usually wonderful husband of acting like "a psycho" and "a pregnant person." Neither of which I am, to the best of my knowledge. So there, A-hole.

I don't feel like writing a blog t0day. I don't feel like getting off my ass today either. I'm tired and queasy and short-tempered, so maybe he's right and I am acting like a pregnant person. I'm still not though. I'm just lazy and ate too much bacon for breakfast.

Here's a recipe, which is of course my fallback when I'm feeling uninspired. Back in the 1970's, rumaki was really big, along with disco, open marriages, and shag carpeting. This, however, is not a bad idea, this is a good idea. Rumaki are chicken livers wrapped in bacon and baked. I have no urge to eat chicken livers, though, so when I make this, I make it with strips of chicken breast. Along toward the end, I brush the whole sizzling thing in a mixture of soy sauce, chicken broth, and brown sugar. It makes for a nice, yummy glaze. I also like to substitute sliced water chestnuts for the chicken once in a while.

Ooh, another good glaze is dijon mustard, honey, brown sugar, and a couple shakes of tabasco sauce.

Chicken Rumaki

Makes enough for a big baby or wedding shower or a medium-sized party.

4 large skinless boneless chicken breasts, cut into 1 inch wide strips, strips cut into 2-inch pieces
1 1/2 pounds bacon, cut crosswise into thirds.
1 cup low-sodium chicken broth
1/2 cup low-sodium soy sauce
1/4 cup brown sugar

Preheat oven to 375.

Wrap each piece of chicken in a piece of bacon and secure with a toothpick. Lay on a rimmed baking sheet lined with parchment paper, leaving 1/2 an inch between each piece. Bake at 375 for 20-25 minutes, or until chicken is done and bacon is crispy, turning the rumaki occasionally.

Mix together the chicken broth and soy sauce. Stir in the brown sugar until it dissolves. Using a pastry brush, brush the mixture over the rumaki 5-7 minutes before they're done, then again a minute or two before if you like. Serve hot or warm.

NaBloPoMo Day 18: Six Things I Am Currently Enjoying

Gee whiz, Day 18 and I'm already hitting a wall. That didn't take much time. It's hard to find something to talk about every day, much less something interesting. Some days I think of two things, and I write a post ahead of time, which makes me feel virtuous and also like I manage time very well. The second thing is true, the first one, not so much. It's hard to like soft, ripe cheeses as much as I do and still refer to yourself as virtuous.

I've often said I don't really have guilty pleasures. I am not plagued by guilt when it comes to pleasure, mostly because I'm pretty comfortable with myself and I am basically a sensible person who doesn't do a lot of things that I should feel guilty about. That means that I freely admit my enjoyment of microwaved frozen bean and cheese burritos, secluded beaches, rainy Sundays, prosecco, moderately terrible television, chips and really great hot homemade salsa, unabashedly making out with my husband on the couch like teenagers, pedicures, high thread count sheets, fabric softener, the smell of bacon, luxury yarn, my late grandmother's ugly but extremely comfortable old recliner, listening to my son sing the songs he's learning in preschool, playing Scrabble online, and a number of other things that I feel certain most people would find unpleasant at best, and thoroughly annoying at worst.

Here are a list of some of my current favorite things, in no particular order.

1. Nathan's Kosher Half Sour pickles. Holy cheebs, I have never had a pickle this good in my life. My paternal grandfather used to make homemade pickles with cucumbers and dill and garlic and other spices that he grew in his garden. When I was little, I would eat whole jars of them at a time. But even my memory of these pickles can't measure up to Nathan's Kosher Half Sours. I bought a jar this weekend at the grocery store--we are a family of pickle lovers and I didn't have high hopes for getting more than one or two of them. But last night when I got home from work, Dan said, "Have you tasted one of the new pickles yet?"

I said, "No, are they great?"

To my great surprise, he said, "No, they're awful."

I had to try them. Dan does a thing sometimes--he tells me something is terrible so he can eat all of it. I took the jar out of the fridge, I opened it, and sliced a pickle lengthwise into quarters. The whole time, Max was jumping up and down, begging for a pickle. I immediately gave him the first bite, which he chewed--and then his face soured, his eyes teared up, and he immediately turned to his father, who held out his hand. Max spit the chewed up pickle into Dan's hand, and declared, "That's disgusting!"

I've never seen Max turn down a pickle. Never.

I bit into the pickle, and was immediately pleasantly surprised. This pickle was crisp, without being the slightest bit tough or rubbery. It was perfectly balanced, with just enough salt, garlic, tang, and just a hint of pepper and mustard seed. It was quite simply the perfect pickle. I honestly haven't enjoyed a pickle that much since I was pregnant. The best part: I get the whole jar!!!

Nathan's Kosher Half-Sour pickles are available in the refrigerated section of the grocery store. Go to your grocery store right now, and buy several of them.

2. West Wing Reruns. My very favorite show, ever, rerun in two hour blocks, at least, every morning on Bravo. Typically on days that I work, I work from home for a couple of hours in the morning just so I can watch, despite the fact that I own the series on DVD.

3. KitchenAid Stand Mixer. My mother-in-law bought it for me for Christmas last year, and I am crazy about it. It makes amazing bread, perfect cookies, and for the first time in my life, I am having success with cake--real cakes, not Betty Crocker. I am thinking about which attachments to ask for for Christmas: I'm thinking of the ice cream maker and the meat grinder. Because what goes better with homemade sausage than ice cream?

4. Twitter. Everyone knows about Twitter now. I have this blog, of course, and I am on Facebook, like every other person on earth, but Twitter is simply blogging in 140 characters at a time or less. I like that. It forces me to be concise, pithy, and self-editorializing.

5. Thanksgiving Plans. Dan and I have friends who, inexplicably to me, not only love to eat, they hate to cook. They love to buy groceries, invite us over, and have us cook--possibly the best deal ever for us, because they have a great kitchen. Remember last year, when I admitted that I don't really care that much about Thanksgiving food except for mashed potatoes and gravy and stuffing? I still don't, and better yet, our friends don't either. So we're planning on another Thanksgiving like last year--sausage balls (which I still can't say out loud without giggling myself half to death), shrimp, bacon-wrapped water chestnuts in teriyaki, dill dip with veggies, hot spinach artichoke dip with French bread toasts, meatballs and kielbasa. Maybe bacon-clam dip and potato chips. Maybe chips and homemade pico de gallo. And dessert! There has to be dessert. There, now I'm thankful.

6. Gas Prices. I never thought I'd be excited to see gas for $1.89 a gallon, but I am. Right down the street from here, too. What I don't get, though, is why gas is so cheap here and 20 minutes away, where Dan works, it's typically $.30 to $.50 a gallon more. Someone explain that to me.

One short order of business: my most heartfelt and deepest condolences go out to my best friend Kimberly and her family, whose loyal, adorable, and deeply loved retired guide dog, Garnet, had to be put to sleep last week; and whose stepmother Debbie died yesterday. If ever there was a public service announcement for thorough regular checkups, this is it. Kimberly and I met in college, and her family has sort of become mine over the last 14 years. Kimberly, Michael, Ian, Perry, Annie, Jana, and Carter: we love you and we're thinking about you all.

NaBloPoMo Day 9: Dip

I love dip. Everyone who knows me knows I love dip. If I died tomorrow, I'd die happy--as long as I drowned in a swimming pool full of guacamole.

Here's a recipe for spicy eggplant dip. Eggplant is something people have strong feelings about. I love it, as long as it's done well--meaning salted and rinsed to get rid of the icky bitter liquid that sort of oozes out of it. I love eggplant sliced, breaded, fried, and piled on thick-sliced hearty bread with onions, peppers, spicy tomato sauce, and provolone cheese, and grilled.

Anyway, here's eggplant dip. It says spicy but this doesn't sound particularly spicy to me. That's okay, spicy's not everybody's cup of tea. I happen to like it, so I might add a pinch of cayenne to this. Serve it with those multigrain tortilla chips that are on the market now. Yum. Also, pita chips would be good with this.

INGREDIENTS
2 medium eggplants, halved lengthwise
2 tablespoons vegetable oil
1 tablespoon minced garlic
1 teaspoon ground cumin
1 tablespoon grated fresh ginger
1/4 cup finely chopped parsley
1/4 cup red bell pepper, chopped
Salt and pepper

DIRECTIONS
1. Heat oven to 400 F. Line a heavy baking sheet with foil.
2. Brush the cut sides of the eggplant with 1 tablespoon of the oil and arrange cut side down on the baking sheet. Bake until cut sides are browned and eggplant is soft (about 25 minutes).
3. Combine remaining oil and garlic in a skillet and heat over low heat until garlic sizzles. Stir in cumin and remove from heat.
4. Scoop out softened eggplant, chop finely and then add to skillet. Add ginger, bell pepper, and parsley. Stir mixture over low heat until blended. Add salt and pepper to taste.
5. Serve warm or at room temperature.

Fire Sale on Mayonnaise

Today, my first unemployment check arrived.

I really like the idea of getting paid for sitting around, making homemade mayonnaise and knitting and watching Fox Reality Channel (a sidebar: has anybody seen that channel? It defies explanation. Holy crap, there is some excessively awful TV out there that I didn't even know existed.) It probably would have been less appealing a year from now, but when we did the math, we realized that if I kept Max at home with me, I would be breaking even.

What this involved, though, was a committment: I had to commit to staying at home, not job-hunting, and depending on my unemployment.

Have I mentioned my confirmed status as a total commitment-phobe?

And let me say this: Dan doesn't care what I do, as long as I'm happy. Dan is the most adaptable, accepting, open-minded human being I have ever met in my entire life, which is why I snapped him right up and married him. I cannot say enough good things about this man.

What if the perfect job fell into my lap? What if the opportunity to be, like, an ice cream taster for Satan came along? Do I sell my soul and put my kid back in daycare for that job?

Yes, as it turns out, I do. On the day that my first unemployment check arrived, the day that I decided I would give stay-at-home-mom-hood another shot (I stayed home with Max for fourteen months, and...let's just say it wasn't my cup of tea), I got offered a job. I got offered the job, the ice cream tester for Satan job. I got offered the cream of the crop of jobs that I interviewed for in a panic the week after I got laid off, the one I really wanted, the tasty morsel. They offered me more money than I asked for, they're in a primo location, and best of all, I don't have think about whether this place will close its doors.

I got a job, so get your free mayonnaise while you can.

I Realize This Is Weird, But...

This morning, I made homemade mayonnaise. And now I have the mayonnaise equivalent of a bumper crop of zucchini.

I know, I really need to find a job. I got it. But I love homemade mayonnaise, and making it is just so much fun. It's like magic--it goes into the food processor liquid, and it comes out really thick and gooey. It has something to do with fat molecules suspending the water molecules, and emulsions, and some other chemistry that I don't really care that much about because I am not Alton Brown. But still, it is just so cool to watch, and by the way, yum. It tastes so much better than anything that you buy in the store, mostly because it isn't made of things like gelatin, like your regular mayonnaise is. But the smallest manageable amount of mayonnaise that you can possibly make is, like, 11 pounds of mayonnaise. Okay, it's like 4 cups. But that is really a lot of mayonnaise. And homemade mayonnaise tastes better and stronger than the stuff that comes in a jar, and a little goes a long way.

Here's the question, and it's a really good one, so think hard (or not at all, because it's really only a good question to me): What do you like mayonnaise on, or in, or with? Because this recipe made about six months' worth of mayonnaise, and I just can't eat all of this myself.

If you'd like some mayonnaise, and you live in the D.C. area, let me know. I will personally deliver homemade mayonnaise to you. Is that a job, do you think? Could I make money AND mayonnaise?

That sounds ideal.

Seven Skills Every Woman Should Master

Yay for Maggie Mason and her lists. She made a list of skills every woman should master (or muster.) I agree with most of her things, and I have a few of my own.

1. Write a thoughtful and personal thank-you note. I can't tell you how many times recently I've received a "thank-you" note from someone for whom I took at least a little trouble to find a personal and thoughtful (I thought) gift. In every case the note was not addressed to me on the inside, and in most cases said something like this: "Thank you for your thoughtful gift, whatever it was."

When I was in elementary school, my mother once refused to allow me to complete an assignment handed out as a punishment: copying pages from the dictionary by hand. As a professional writer, she loathed the idea of writing as punishment. These deeply impersonal and thoughtless notes seem a lot like that kind of punishment to me; frankly, I'd rather not receive a thank-you note at all rather than one of these no-thanks notes.

2. Entertain unexpected guests. Keep a bottle of white wine in the fridge and a bottle of red someplace dark. Keep bags of cashews, toasted pecans, and dried apricots in a dark place in the cupboard (and don't polish them off while watching "Grey's Anatomy.") Invest in a nice cheeseboard, and keep a wedge or two of decent cheese (like an aged cheddar and a hard cheese, like real Parmigiano or Dry Jack) in the fridge.

3. Perfect one easy appetizer, one salad, one main course, and one dessert. In case the unexpected guests stay for dinner. Here are some that are easy and use things that ought to be in your pantry (if they're not, consider keeping them in your panry.)

Cheese straws
Spinach-Basil Salad with tomatoes, candied walnuts, and warm bacon dressing
Glazed blueberry chicken
Orange flan

4. Break up with a toxic friend. You know who I mean--it's that one friend who admires your new shoes, and two days later has some of her own. The one who, when you told her you had a crush on a new boy in high school, became enamoured of him herself. The one who is just a little two-faced or likes inappropriate drama or doesn't return phone calls when she's got a boyfriend. Yeah, you don't need her--you just need a good way to lose her.

5. Throw a frisbee, a baseball and a football. Believe it or not, these things will come up. And if you can't do them, the boys will notice you. And not in a good way.

6. Apologize convincingly. You would be surprised how far a heartfelt apology will carry you. And even if you don't mean it, you should sound like you do.

7. Say no to your mother-in-law. If she's like mine, she is surprisingly convincing. I am working on this skill myself.

Why I'm Broke, Probably

Tomorrow, I start a financial remodel of most of my life. Last week, I looked over my checking account statement from last month, and nearly had a heart attack: in a month, I spent over $700 on groceries, eating out, and lunch at work, just on that one card--that doesn't even include what I might have spent on those things on any of my other cards. Ouch.

Groceries are the least of my problems. I budget about $150 a week for groceries, and most often I come in well under that, unless there's some kind of special meal coming up. Tonight, for example, I discovered that the Safeway around the corner from my house is going to stop carrying sugar-free Kool-Aid. Horrified to find their entire stock of Sugar-free Kool-Aid on the clearance rack, I bought it all--45 boxes--for $1 a box. I also complained to the manager of the store, who told me that there wasn't much he could do about it. Shmuck.

Also not the problem: Dan. He packs his lunches, and takes salad with chicken breasts and whole-wheat pasta tossed in. His lunches are a grand total of about $3 a day.

Max's daycare provides lunch for him. Have I happened to mention how much I love Max's daycare? She is a licensed home daycare, she's got years of experience and four kids of her own. There's no TV, she has a curriculum and planned activities every day, and Max gets a healthy breakfast, lunch, and two snacks a day. Not only that, but he's treated like a part of her family, and he loves it so much there he practically jumps out of the moving car when we pull into her driveway. All of this for $135 a week! Anyway, Max's breakfast and lunch is included in the daycare cost, so he's not the problem.

The problem is me: I go to work incredibly early in the morning and work next door to a Giant--it's too easy for me to pick up something for breakfast, run back across the street to hit the salad bar at lunch, and avail myself of the chilled sodas in the coolers near the checkout lane. There goes $10 a day, easy.

So, I am going to be attempting to plug the leak. Here are the rules:

$30 a week for lunches and breakfasts.
I'll carry my lunch at least two days a week. (Dammit, I hate carrying my lunch.)
Dan and I will not go out more than twice in a week, including Friday night, which is our regular night, and our weekend breakfasts at Eastern Market (I will really miss that.)
More water, less soda, and I'll buy a case of Diet Coke and drink those, rather than purchasing 20-ounce sodas for $1.39 each.
No more than one Starbucks a week (Dammit again!)
I will post what I spend every day, so that you will all help me be accountable.

Any other suggestions?

100 Things to do Before I Go, 16-25

16. Drive fast on the Autobahn.
17. See a Major League baseball game at every stadium.
18. Be great at my job.
19. Make puff pastry from scratch.
20. Own a dog again.
21. Do pilates.
22. Take classes in photography, sculpture, weaving, and pottery.
23. Learn to spin my own yarn.
24. Swim naked in the ocean at night.
25. See my son do something great (win a Pulitzer Prize, lead a big group of people, etc.)

Miles To Go Before I Sleep

After a week at work that has thoroughly kicked my ass to the pavement and laughed while I cried, I've been thinking about other things that I could be doing with my life. Because what better to think about when you've worked a 40-hour week by Wednesday mid-afternoon because you work in the non-profit housing counseling industry and there's an economic recession and a mortgage crisis on?

Maggie Mason, better known as Mighty Girl, has been writing lists of things to do before she goes. I love her list. I love it so much, I decided to write my own, in several pieces. Today, I bring you 1-15 of my list of Things To Do Before I Go. I'm not planning on going or anything, I just love this list and the thought behind it. I've done several of these lists throughout my life; some of the things on it were so important to me at one point but not so much now, some I've accomplished, and some I don't even have a plan for yet. Also, these are in no particular order. Please leave me a comment with some of your own, or consider doing a list of your own.

100 Things To Do Before I Go, 1-15

1. Teach Max to cook.
2. Learn to surf.
3. Do something I don't think I can do (run a marathon, sing in public, etc.)
4. Watch the sun set in the desert.
5. Watch the sun rise in the mountains.
6. Write a play.
7. Make really great marinara sauce.
8. Write for a living.
9. Hang glide.
10. Make a quilt from Max's baby clothes.
11. Take a vacation with my best friend.
12. Stop being mad at my parents.
13. Go to India.
14. Own my dream house.
15. Knit a sweater that I would actually wear.