Why is it that when summer squash are ready to harvest, they’re all ready at once?  I love squash, but how much can one person take?  In last week’s CSA delivery, we got zillions of zucchini, scads of spaghetti squash, and crates of crooknecks.  The usual sauté-with-garlic route would not suffice for so much of the Cucurbita pepo family.

I downloaded the Epicurious app for the iPhone and started narrowing down my search.  I settled on this recipe for Cassolita (Winter Squash w/Caramelized Onions), a Moroccan/Sephardic/Andalusian dish that sounded like something Justin would dig.  I substituted the summer squash for the winter, and it was FAN-FLIPPING-TASTIC, although I can imagine it would be even better with sweeter/creamier winter squash varieties.  I served it on a bed of couscous, and i topped it with fresh mint that I toasted in the toaster oven.  I highly recommend it – the cinnamon raisins and onions were divine, it made great use of the squash, and it happens to be vegan, if you’re concerned about such things (and if you’re not, it’s still a beautiful side dish).  I also recommend the Epicurious iPhone app – it was much easier to carry the recipe with me to my mom’s (where I cooked it) and to look at my phone rather than putting a laptop on the kitchen counter.

We’ve also gotten beets from the CSA more than once, and while we haven’t gotten bushels of beets, when you’re not a beet fan, any beet is one too many.  As I previously mentioned, I made a chocolate cake using the latest receipt of beets, and if you didn’t know there were beets, you’d be hard pressed to guess they were hiding out in there.  That earthy essence that’s overwhelming in a bite of a beet becomes a dark complement to the cocoa in this cake.  The cake was also so moist that it didn’t need any frosting; if I wanted to make it fancy, I might drizzle a little powdered sugar glaze on it next time.  Better yet, I’d like to try it with a little warm plum or rhubarb compote spooned over a slice.  Writing this down is actually making me hope for beets in tomorrow’s CSA basket.  Yikes.

Dark Secret Chocolate Cake

(adapted from Simply in Season)

1 cup each beets, carrots, and apples (peeled and chopped)

1 1/2 cups sugar

1/2 cup neutral oil

1/2 cup plain yogurt

3 eggs

1/2 cup cocoa

1 1/2 teaspoons vanilla extract

1 1/2 cups white flour

1/2 cup whole wheat flour

1 1/2 teaspoons baking soda

1/2 teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon cinnamon

1/2 cup chocolate chips

1.  Cover beets, carrots and apples with water in a saucepan and boil until soft.  Drain and set aside to cool (about an hour).

2.  Place cooked beets, carrots and apples in a blender and puree until smooth.  Add a tablespoon or two of water, if needed.  Set aside.

3.  Beat sugar, oil, yogurt and eggs with an electric mixer for two minutes.  Add the cocoa, vanilla, and puree, and beat for another two minutes.

4.  In a separate bowl, sift together the flours, baking soda, salt and cinnamon.  Using a big spatula or wooden spoon, gently fold the flour mixture into the wet mixture, just until blended.

5.  Pour half the batter into a well-greased bundt pan.  Sprinkle the chocolate chips evenly over the batter, then add the other half of the batter.  Bake at 350 degrees for about 50 minutes, or until a knife inserted comes out clean.  Let cool, then slide out of the pan and devour.

Forgive me, Michael Pollan, for I have sinned. It has been seven weeks since my last blog post, and in the mean time I have committed some felonies against food. I have thrown away beets that rotted before I could stir up the motivation to do something with them. I have ingested fast-food tacos in the car. I have fed my beloved child macaroni in the shape of a cartoon aardvark’s head, coated in orange powder. I have fallen off the real food wagon.

Let’s get serious: there are reasons – some of them even, well, reasonable – for my fall. It started with the kitchen being out of commission: we had a new cooktop and dishwasher installed, which simply rendered the kitchen inaccessible for a couple of days, and the unanticipated cloud of tile dust resulting from the installation took several more days to completely eradicate. We’re also in the midst of a full-on food fight with Milo, who is taking his developmental responsibility to vie for control seriously, now that he’s turned three; as difficult as it is to get him to eat a variety of foods at home, it’s nearly impossible on the road – which is where we were for two of the last seven weeks. And another thing: beets are gross and smell like poop of baby formula-origin, even when they’re fresh, so once they’ve gone to pot in the fridge – let’s just say I’d like to burn the fridge.

But, enough of my whining. It’s time to climb back on the wagon. The CSA keeps delivering local bounty, and we’re not traveling again for a while. I have to re-lose the pounds I’ve re-gained, and – someday – Milo will actually eat something I put in front of him. So here’s my penance: a cake full of beets (beets!) and other foods that actually come from plants. Two different soups full of fresh corn. And a peach pie that’s so quick to throw together that I have no excuse for letting another peach rot. I’ve misplaced my notes on the cake, so I’ll have to post it later, but here are my other penitential recipes:

Quick Corn Chowder

It makes two, hearty, meal-sized servings; to serve four, as a starter, boil the potatoes and the corn separately, and puree the potatoes with 1/4 c. of the milk before returning to the pan in Step 3. We ate this soup with heirloom tomatoes in balsamic syrup on the side and a little toasted sourdough bread to sop up everything.

2 heaping cups fingerling potatoes, in bite-sized chunks

1 cup fresh corn

2 tablespoons finely chopped garlic

2 tablespoons butter

1 cup milk

1 teaspoon dried sage (a ton of fresh sage would be heavenly)

salt and pepper

grated cheese to garnish

1. Place the potatoes in a dutch oven and cover with water. Bring to a boil, then add the corn. Cook until potatoes are tender. Drain the potatoes and corn in a colander and set aside.

2. Return the dutch oven to the stove and reduce the heat to medium. Melt the butter in it, then add the garlic and sauté just until it starts to turn golden.

3. Add the potatoes and corn back to the pot. Stir in the milk and sage, and salt and pepper to taste. Let cook until the milk is heated through, then serve immediately with a little cheese on top.

Awww...Shuckers!

Fresh Corn and Fideo Soup

Fideo is the Spanish word for noodle, but Fideo Soup is something special, dark and complex, miles away from the delicious and classic but straightforward Chicken Noodle Soup. In Barcelona, I ate a bowl of Fideo loaded with seafood that drove me nuts trying to figure out what made it so distinctive. It turns out that the secret to Fideo Soup is browning the noodles before adding the stock – so simple yet so transformational! Traditional Fideo Soup is made with a vermicelli-ish noodle, broken into short pieces, plus chicken broth and tomatoes, but I adapted it for vegematarians and for simplicity and to use the explosion of corn in my fridge and the alphabet-shaped macaroni Milo voluntarily ate last week. Naturally, Milo refused to eat it, but Justin proclaimed it “A Number 1″ (a phrase which originated in the grading of sea vessels, in case you were wondering, like I was).

1/4 cup olive oil

2 tablespoons finely chopped garlic

1 cup miniature pasta

4 cups vegetable stock

2 cups fresh corn

2 teaspoons smoked paprika (the other secret to the flavor; look in the Latino section of the supermarket – or a Latino market – for a much cheaper version than what’s in the traditional spice section)

salt and pepper, to taste.

1. In a small dutch oven or large saucepan, heat the oil over medium heat. When it just begins to wave, add the garlic and the noodles, and sauté until the garlic is golden and the pasta starts to brown.

2. Add the vegetable stock, corn, smoked paprika, and salt and pepper. Bring to a boil, then let simmer until the noodles are cooked – probably no more than five minutes, if using small-enough pasta – and serve.

Beyond-Rustic Peach Pie

I practically never bake pies. I always make the excuse that I don’t have time to chill pie crust, but it turns out that skipping that step isn’t fatal. Another time-cutter? Forget painstakingly rolling out the crust. I threw this pie together while my soup simmered and baked it while we ate dinner. It’s not pretty, but it tasted just as good, frankly, as when I’ve followed the classic “rustic tart” process.

3 cups sliced fresh peaches (apples are great, too)

1 1/4 cups flour

a dash of salt

1/4 cup sugar

12 tablespoons (or 1 1/2 sticks) unsalted butter

1 egg yolk

1. Preheat the oven to 425 degrees. Stir together the flour, salt and sugar. Cut 10 tablespoons of the butter into small pieces and rub it into the dry ingredients until well mixed. Blend in the egg yolk.

2. Roll the dough into a ball and place in the middle of an ungreased* baking sheet with sides (a pizza pan works well). Using your fingers press the dough into a circle, then (working from the middle) flatten it into a roughly 1/4″ thick circle with a diameter of about 8″, leaving the remaining bulk of the dough at the outer edge.

3. Pile the peaches on the flattened circle. Using your fingers, gently pull up and flatten the excess dough from the edges over the peaches (the center of the fruit pile will be left uncovered). Melt the remaining butter and brush it over the top of the dough and the fruit.

4. Bake for about 20 minutes, or until the dough is golden brown. Serve immediately with vanilla ice cream or cold milk.

*Edited to specify the sheet should be ungreased.  Thanks to Ashley for asking.

The CSA’s email sounded promising: “This week’s theme is ‘Chicken Dinner with all the fixin’s!’” A whole, fresh chicken would be in the basket, and I got a little tingle at the thought of roasting a little chicken à la Alice Waters and wowing my diners (okay, wowing my mom) with my rustic elegance. I began to suspect things might get a little inelegant when Trevor the CSA Guy handed me a bag the size of a Butterball turkey. Unsure of poultry protocol, I asked Trevor if I was okay to wait a day before cooking it; he laughed and said it would be no problem. “These guys were still walking around at 4:00 yesterday afternoon,” he assured me with great jolliness. I felt slightly less tingly.

Yesterday, after my house vegetarians were at work and/or napping, I took the chicken out of the fridge and unwrapped it. The neck was still attached. And quite, ahem, phallic. I was not expecting that development, and my food boyfriend hadn’t addressed what to do about an attached neck (which kind of calls into question the everything part of “How to Cook Everything”), or how to keep one’s hand steady on the knife when one could not stop giggling. Also, there was no way this whole gigantic bird was going to cook evenly without special interventions, and special interventions were not a part of my little Alice Waters fantasy. I resigned myself to cutting up the chicken before roasting, and a little more of the tingle faded.

I read the whole section on cutting up a whole chicken, twice, and studied the pictures to become expert on locating the joints. Then, for good measure, I read the instructions one more time. Still, when I started to lift the appendages and flaps, nothing looked familiar, and – I kid you not – the chicken began to expand. I won’t terrorize you with the details of the unintentional bone-breaking (“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” I kept yelling) or the resulting tragically misshapen pieces not recognizable by any regular KFC diner. I may have to seek out a therapist to work out my post-traumatic butchering stress.

By the time I had broken that poor bird down, disposed of the packaging and excess fat, scrubbed my hands and most of my kitchen, I was way behind schedule. I had just put the pan (lined with new red potatoes, quartered onions, tiny new carrots, and fresh sage leaves, topped with the chicken pieces that were somewhat recognizable and still had some skin attached to them) in the oven when my mom arrived. “It’s going to be a bit,” I told her euphemistically. She played with Milo and periodically basted the chicken while I put the neck and the unintentionally-skinless parts and what was probably the thighs into a pot to cook and finished dessert.

When we finally sat down, the trauma did seem at least a little worthwhile. The chicken tasted like the chicken I remember eating at the Blue Gate (an Amish restaurant in Sarasota, Florida, that isn’t there anymore, alas) when I was a kid, and nothing like the little roasted chickens I occasionally get from the grocery store deli, which is to say, it actually tasted chickeny. The little bits of skin that survived were fabulously crispy, and I figured if there was ever a time to indulge in chicken skin, this was it. We also had wheat rolls (my best-tasting homemade bread output to date, if I do say so myself) and fresh CSA green beans with sliced almonds and Herbes de Provence. I’m sure Alice would have been disappointed with my roasted vegetables, which were actually not very roasted but rather swimming in chicken juices and lots of olive oil; to be fair, I overcompensated for the lack of skin coverage with more olive oil than was called for, a mistake I won’t make again – or rather, wouldn’t make, if I ever put myself through a whole chicken again, which I will not. I will enjoy every piece of the leftovers, and be grateful for the nice woman who raised such nice chickens, but after I’m done with it, I won’t need to eat chicken again for a long, long time.

It’s significantly less unnerving to get my protein from that other chickenular output, the egg. Last week, I used up the yellow squash and the rainbow chard from the CSA basket in these eggy little pancakes, but any combination of vegetables totalling about four cups would work. Justin and I loved them, especially with a squeeze of sweet hot sauce; Milo wouldn’t touch them, because he’s in his food-should-not-be-combined phase, but I suspect they’d be a good way to boost a normal kid’s vegetable input:

Vegetable Pancakes

1 medium onion, finely diced

1 large-ish yellow squash, finely diced

1 bunch rainbow chard, stems removed, leaves cut into a chiffonade

1/2 c. whole wheat flour

1/2 t. baking powder

dash of salt

4 eggs, beaten

Whisk the flour, baking powder, and salt together, then stir in the eggs to make a smooth batter. Fold in the vegetables. Heat a skillet to medium heat and coat lightly with cooking spray. Drop spoonfuls of the vegetable batter into the skillet. When each pancake starts to bubble, flip it over with a spatula and finish the other side. Keep warm in the oven (or my best kitchen friend, the toaster oven) until all pancakes are done. Serve with a sweet hot sauce, chutney, or (with a corn pancake) maple syrup.

I love walking into the West Side Market and being overwhelmed by the smells of ripe, in-season fruits. Even my ginormous supermarket is emitting genuine fruit fumes when the glass doors slide open. And when Trevor hands over the CSA bag, it smells like Summer itself is clawing to climb out. I’m amazed at how our little real food project is tuning me in to what’s in season, making me both grateful and extra-picky ; for example, despite being The World’s Biggest Tomato Lover Ever (TM), I’ve been turning up my nose at tomatoes picked before ripening on the other side of the country – they’re just not good enough. With all due respect to my Californian friends, I’m sure your produce is fabulous when you get it, but I’ll pass on your taste-depleted stuff as long as there are so many better alternatives. Of course, come Winter, when produce harvested earlier that day is a distant memory in Ohio, I’ll happily take your grapes and greens; I’m not nearly noble enough to pull a Barbara Kingsolver- a box of clementines as one’s ultimate Christmas indulgence is a tad spartan for me. But for now, I’m living in the land of plenty, and you can keep your stinkin’ garlic.

Summer Fruit Sauce

You could use just about any combination of ripe berries and stone fruits, and you could vary the sugar to your taste, but this proportion of sugar to cinnamon yields a spicy, kinda grown-up sauce. I served it over cranberry walnut French toast with a drizzle of yogurt, which looked a mess but tasted fabulous.

1/2 pint strawberries, black raspberries, or other ripe berries, hulled and roughly chopped

2 UFO (aka Donut) peaches, peeled, pitted and chopped (or 1 large peach)

2 red (or black) plums, peeled, pitted and chopped

1/4 c. brown sugar

1 T. ground cinnamon (not a typo – use a full tablespoon – DO IT!)

1/2 c. water

dash of salt

Place water and salt in a large saucepan with the chopped fruit and bring to a boil. When the mixture comes to a boil, stir in the sugar and cinnamon and lower the heat to medium-low. Cook the fruit, stirring occasionally, until the fruit is a mess and no longer watery. For a smoother sauce, mash with a potato masher. For a really smooth sauce, strain out any seeds and puree in a blender.

Sweet and Smoky Bok Choy

I ate these greens on top of mashed potatoes made from new red potatoes – I don’t know why braised greens are so good with mashed potatoes, but they are. Next time, I may try this recipe tossed with Shanghai noodles and those mushrooms labeled something that looks like “humongous” in the Asian market. Serves 2 as a vegetarian entrée (as previously described) or 4 as a side.

One bunch bok choy

2 T. sesame oil

1 clove garlic, finely minced

1 t. grated ginger

1/4 c. maple syrup

salt and pepper

Heat a skillet to medium. Separate the bok choy stalks from the leaves. Slice the stalks fairly thinly, like celery. Gather the leaves, roll them up, and slice them into ribbons. Add the sesame oil to the skillet and watch carefully; as soon as it starts to shimmer, immediately add the chopped stalks and stir to coat with the oil. Let the stalks cook for 2-3 minutes, then add the leaves, garlic and ginger, and stir until the leaves are coated with oil and starting to wilt. Stir in the maple syrup, and let it cook down, stirring occasionally, until about half the liquid is reduced. Remove from heat and salt and pepper to taste.

Maple Date Muffins (adapted from How to Cook Everything)

Whole grain, fiber, protein, good fat, plus enough sweetness to make them taste decidedly unvirtuous.

5 T. melted butter

1 c. whole wheat flour

7/8 c. all-purpose flour

1/8 c. cornstarch

1/2 c. sugar

1 t. cinnamon

1/2 t. salt

3 t. baking powder

1 egg

1 c. milk

3/4 c. chopped dates

1/4 c. chopped pecans

2 T. maple syrup

1/2-1 cup powdered sugar

Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Grease muffin tin with 2 T. of the butter.

In a large bowl, mix together the dry ingredients. In a second bowl, beat together the egg, milk, and remaining 3 T. of melted butter. Make a well in the center of the dry ingredients and pour in the egg mixture. Quickly fold together just until the dry ingredients are incorporated, and gently stir in the dates and nuts.

Divide the batter among the muffin cups and bake until browned (18-20 minutes for normal muffins, 27-30 minutes for super-grande bakery-sized muffins). While the muffins are baking, whisk together the maple syrup and powdered sugar until completely smooth. When the muffins come out of the oven, drizzle the maple icing over the muffin tops with a fork and let cool in the tin for five minutes.

**********

Tonight, we needed a snicky-snacky dinner we could scarf down as soon as my mom arrived from work before heading out to finish the shopping we started yesterday, and bruschetta did the trick. I steeped a couple of garlic cloves in hot, melted butter before giving slices of country French bread a quick bath in the butter and toasting them to a crisp. I sliced a yellow squash from the CSA basket and sauteed it with rosemary in the butter and garlic leftover from the bread bath – not the usual bruschetta topping, but surprisingly good.

I also made two cold toppings that I prepared earlier in the afternoon so the flavors could meld in the fridge. The first was chopped, seeded tomatoes mixed with chopped, fresh mozzarella, basil, olive oil, sherry vinegar, and salt and pepper. The second was the smoked salmon salad that I had been craving all morning.

Smoked Salmon Salad

Still creamy but more tart – the better to balance the butteriness of the crostini!

3-4 oz. smoked salmon, minced

1/4 c. mayonnaise

2 T. plain yogurt

the juice of one lemon

2 t. dried dill

Mix. Chill. Enjoy.

After three weeks of The Everlasting Crud (TM) alternately inhibiting my senses of smell and taste, taxing my will to make any effort, and challenging my ability to stomach much more than bread, I am easing back into the kitchen.  We have managed to keep up with the CSA, except for a fraction of the kale, which I swear multiplied, and the beets, which I swear I will tackle Monday or Tuesday.  Honest.  Some of the CSA basket contents have gone into uninspired but comforting pasta tosses, and I made a coconut curry loaded with zucchini and kale with which I fed Justin for several days but which I could not face.  Instead, I met my own needs with my first ever loaf of bread, which lasted less than 24 hours, in part because we just ate bread for dinner that night.  I made a second, equally-successful loaf to which I added raisins and cardamom, but it’s been downhill since that loaf – two subsequent attempts have ended in blackened exteriors and doughy centers.

I had better luck with yeast when I tackled pizza dough (another first).  I let the whole wheat dough rise in the afternoon, then took the fixings to my mom’s for a DIY pizza party.  Milo kept his simple; he reminds us frequently that he likes pizza with CHEESE!  and TOMATO SAUCE!  The rest of us added baby bellas and thin slices of red pepper and onion.  My mom and I went a little further and added a sprinkle of crispy pepper bacon.

Milo helped by dimpling the dough with his fingers and then brushing the tops with olive oil.

His favorite topping - the TOMATO SAUCE!

The finished product

On tomorrow’s plate:  biscuits and gravy, Mujadara, and black raspberry upside down cake.  I’ll let you know how it goes.

Just because I was not here to avail myself of the CSA basket last week in no way suggests that I did not eat well. I did cook and bake, with Johnny’s able assistance.  He was the best at preparing our fruit for snacking; no apples were ever more vigorously scrubbed.

Cupcake baking was an adventure, particularly when the batter and the frosting and the sprinkles were so tasty! They were delicious even when baked and frosted.

In Cocoa Beach, Jon and his housemates Alex and Jason hosted us for a wonderful home-cooked meal – pot roast, carrots flavored with thyme, and mashed potatoes with gravy. The meal was topped off with a home-baked apple pie. It was the epitome of southern comfort food.

A visit to Jacksonville is never complete without indulging in shrimp tacos at Sierra Grille!

And, since this is a food blog, I will be safe in telling you that Johnny is a skilled Candyland player, and a fierce competitor at that!

The cause of cooking has suffered a blow this week, as a fresh wave of The Everlasting Crud (TM) has made itself at home with us. I managed a pot of great northern beans (cooked with bay leaves, quartered white onions, and tons of dried rosemary) and a pan of cornbread before I succumbed to the lures of a pillowtop mattress and a bottle of green Gatorade with a bendy straw. While Milo and I have had no appetite, Justin has escaped with a mild case, and he still needed lunches and dinners for work, so while he cared for Milo each morning, I packed beans and cornbread plus a big green salad for him each day:

• Monday: Mandarin Oranges, Cashews, Green Onions, and Romaine, drizzled with Sesame Oil, with Flatbread Crackers
• Tuesday: Sweet Cherries (pitted and halved), Sliced Almonds, Green Onions, and Romaine, dressed with Balsamic Vinegar (the good stuff!) and Olive Oil, with an Orange Cranberry Biscotti (biscotto? what is the singular?)
• Wednesday: Sliced Fennel, Pecan Halves, Goat Cheese, and Romaine, dressed with Lemon Juice and Grapeseed Oil, with Honey Wheat Pretzels

So simple, and so tasty, according to Justin.

I hope my appetite is improved in the coming week, because here comes the new CSA delivery, with its pile-o-lettuce for still more salads. Alas, there is more kale, but I have a plan.

• 1 lb sweet cherries
• ½ lb of mixed kale (Black Italian Tuscan and Red Russian Kale)
• 1 yellow zucchini
• 1 green zucchini
• 1 bunch garlic scapes
• 1 lb fresh spinach pasta (linguini noodle)
• 4 oz chevre (goat cheese)
• 1 dozen free range eggs
• ½ gallon organic milk
• 1 head winter density lettuce

Three weeks and one day after beginning this campaign of eating real food, I weigh nine pounds less than when the whole thing started. NINE! This progress includes gaining back three pounds during my six days of restaurant eating in Houston, so my gross pounds lost is actually twelve. At this rate, I will completely waste away sometime next year. Okay, not really. But by the end of the CSA season there will be so much less of me to love (or despise, depending on your preference).

Weight loss was not the point of this project (although weight loss is certainly in order). Dieting is not my thing. The feeling of deprivation makes me insane. My goal was to eat better, and more ethically, and to instill good habits in my child. I’m also unaccustomed to not working and/or going to school, and I needed something grown-up-ish in which to throw myself. The weight loss – without a hint of deprivation – is just a happy outcome. Woohoo!

*****

The other disappearing act is my beloved mother. I know she’s been busy, but I also know she’s made salads and pasta and possibly soup. She’s headed to my sister’s, but maybe she and Lissa will whip up something for dinner and post it here. Or maybe my brother will prepare one of his legendary kebab or pasta dinners, and she’ll take pictures so we can feast vicariously.

Milo learned to spread softened butter on bread, and he carefully arranged the cheese before I grilled our sandwiches. Then, he cut a big circle out of each sandwich, which looked like the sun and the moon, much to his delight.

As we ate our lunch, I asked Milo whether cooking was easy or difficult. He thought for a second then replied, “Easy! I like to do easy things!” So I asked him if cooking was fun or work, and he immediately replied, “Fun!” I was thinking to myself that if we can help him maintain that opinion of cooking, he could become one terrific cook. And then he interrupted my thoughts by declaring, “I have a nice mommy.” My eyes watered like I had just chopped a bushel of onions. Even if he turns out to be a terrible cook, taking the time to cook together will have been totally worth it.

Milo learned what a rolling pin is, and he used it pretty expertly, but what he really liked was pressing his fingers in the dough.

Milo is completely mad for cheese crackers of any kind, but we’re trying to wean him from processed snacks as part of our family campaign to eat real food. This morning at the grocery store, Milo immediately eyed the Cheese-Its display and started his usual cycle of asking for them over and over, but then inspiration hit. I had already told him we would bake together today, and I had been thinking about making a snack cake, but I told him when we baked this afternoon we would make our very own cheese crackers together. The beg-fest stopped immediately.

Superior-tasting, crud-free cheese crackers!

I used half of the “Simplest Cheese Straws” recipe from “How to Cook Everything” [Thanks, Matt, for lending it to me - I am definitely going to buy it!], omitting the cayenne pepper and letting Milo cut hearts and stars our rather than cutting the flattened dough into straw strips. The downside was that I had to keep gathering the scraps and re-rolling the dough, but the upside was that they were A MILLION TIMES BETTER than any Cheese-It or Goldfish ever thought about being, and Milo was both proud of and extremely satisfied with them.

Don't laugh. Do you have a better idea?

On a mostly-unrelated note, except for the fact that bananas are vaguely moon-shaped, I accidentally popped the top of a banana that wasn’t going to be eaten (Milo had just eaten two, Justin is still at work, and I’m mildly allergic). I hated to throw it away, but I could envision greeting a kitchen full of  fruit flies in the morning or a cloud of rotten banana fumes sending me into anaphylactic shock. So I taped it up, and good. If it doesn’t work, well, I would have thrown it out otherwise. But if it does work, I could be hailed as a food preservation genius. Actually, Milo randomly informed me today that I was a genius, so maybe I’m on the right track.

Have you ever accidentally opened a banana? What did you do?