Sunday, Bloody Sunday

Hopefully we can make it through without any actual bleeding. But the toddler is wearing on everyone's last nerve, so that may be an ambitious goal.

Last night, around 5:00, I decided I'd had about enough of the screaming. And I had an idea. So I put on my shoes and told Ben, "I think I'm going to go to the gym now."

He looked at me like I'd just announced my intention to run for governor. "What? Now? Really? Aren't we going to eat dinner? What about him?"

I glanced at the toddler to which he was pointing. "He just ate a piece of baloney and half a container of cottage cheese. I think he's good for now. You might give him another snack if he wants one, but I was thinking maybe we could eat a later dinner tonight. You know, that it might be nice to actually eat dinner rather than shovel bites of food in our mouths in between tending to the needs of children. Have an actual conversation instead of listening to children blabber on about nothing or make smartass comments about how our food sucks or just scream and throw their food on the floor."

"You have a point," he said. And off I went.

I suffered through my 40 minutes of treadmill torture, and I made it. Yaaaaay. But it was hard, probably because I've done nothing in a week. But I did it. Not long after I got home, the toddler was off to the tub, and finally, blissfully, thankfully, off to bed.

I'd been obsessing over pumpkin soup since I got a bowl from the Hen House Market salad bar on Friday. It was AWESOME. And I felt I could easily recreate it, seeing as how I own a $400 blender and could puree a cat if I really wanted to.

Alas, there is a pumpkin shortage, and I'm not paying almost 5 bucks for a can of "organic" pumpkin. So I bought a $2 butternut squash instead. Before I left for the gym, I cut it in half, scooped out the guts, put it cut-side down in a Pyrex 9x13 dish, and stuck it in the oven at 350 for 45 minutes. I instructed Ben to just turn off the oven when the timer went off and I would deal with it when I got home. By the time I set about making dinner, the pan was still warm but the squash was nicely cooked and cool enough to work with.

I got out my stock pot and heated up about a tablespoon of canola oil. I sauteed a small yellow onion (chopped), added a little (okay, a lot) cayenne pepper, some thyme, a little cumin, a little ginger. I wanted to add a little sage but I couldn't find it because our "spice cabinet" is an abomination and I can't ever find shit in it. (I found the sage this morning.)

When the onion was nice and soft, I added about 4 tablespoons of diced garlic, half a stick of unsalted butter, and a little more ginger and cayenne. I attempted to scoop the squash out of its peel, but the peel was so soft, most of it ended up going in, too. I cooked that a few minutes, then added roughly 3 cans of chicken broth and let that simmer for a while.

While it was simmering, I put together a kick-ass pizza. We had a thin-crust Boboli in the freezer that worked swimmingly with the topping I put together--5 slices of bacon, cooked til crispy, then crumbled and set aside; one leek sauteed in a tiny bit of the bacon fat; a handful of arugula and a larger handful of spinach, added to the leeks to wilt; about 1/2 cup of light ricotta cheese and maybe a 1/4 cup of feta; add the bacon and mix the whole mess together, spread on the crust, sprinkle with parmesan, and bake for a few minutes.

While the pizza was in the oven, I pureed the soup in the $400 Blender and gave it a taste.

It was fucking delicious. And the pizza? Even better.

We sat at our dining room table, even used the dimmer switch on the light, and listened to some music. We drank beer, slurped soup, ate gourmet pizza. No one screamed, no one asked for a drink as soon as we sat down, no one need more, no one threw their food on the floor or on the cats.

It was bliss.

We've resolved to do this again. Like, every Saturday night that we're down one kid (because the older one goes to bed slightly later). It wasn't as good as dinner out--it was better. Because we didn't have to wait for some dumb server, we didn't have to listen to annoying other people, we didn't have the spectre of "think of all the money you're wasting" looming over us and spoiling our mojo. And I could sit there in my gym clothes all gross and it didn't matter.

But the real high point of the evening was I did it--I created a delicious dinner, cooking by guess and by golly, like I used to years ago. I showed those New Yorkers that I may not have their fancy gadgets or their awesome grocery stores or unlimited disposable income or a nanny, but I still have a tiny kitchen and can use it to create fantastic dishes all by myself.

Because I'm just that awesome.