Margaritas: Lime juice is key.

People who think that they can spend the summer without the help of limes are reckless and arrogant, at best, and totally screwed up, at worst.  It’s really close to impossible to try and eke out a meaningful existence without the help of these citrus babies.

I don’t mean to pressure anyone into feeling like they don’t have what it takes to live right.  The truth is, most people don’t.  Thankfully, the local grocer often does.

Key Lime Yum

The local grocer most likely sells key lime juice.  In the bottle.  And, if not, BevMo does.  With the little bottle in the fridge, you can masterfully whip up margaritas, key lime pie, and, for the kiddies, a little limeade.  One bottle to make three perfect things to fill in where your neighbor’s swimming pool left off.  And if you think it’s simplistic to sum up summer awesomeness via three recipes, then you, my friend, are a cold-blooded snake.  Or a bank robber.

Sugarplums not dancing and ready for eating.

What is a sugarplum?  It just occurred to me I have no clue.  We take for granted that they exist, and we don’t even care to know what they are.  I always pictures purple beings coated in sugar that dance.  In your head.  In fact they all dance.  The Sugarplum Fairy.  They are not edible, and they are always dancing.  And they are so 1800s.  Did Tiny Tim want sugarplums?

So I did what all Americans do when they just don’t know the answer to the secrets of the universe.  I Googled.  And in three minutes, I not only knew what they were, I knew how to make them and which blogger in Des Moines makes them and likes them.  If you would have told me that twenty years ago, I would have said, “That’s weird.”  What greater dimension of information accessibility will another twenty years bring?  The ability to track anyone’s thoughts?  The ability to track the thoughts of our thoughts?  If that’s so, whatever will the HIGH PERFORMING MAGNET SCHOOL parents think of me for thinking they are stupid?  And what would their thoughts think?  And the thoughts of those thoughts?  Maybe this advancement will be more tolerable to modern minds.  And I will sit with my outdated WHITE Kindle, discussing the marvels of beaming books into my place on the glider.  And my great, great, great grandchildren will be having virtual play dates where kids in different continents can jump off cliffs together and NOT DIE.  All the while mama thinks about dinner that cooks via synaptic fires, though the sauce clumps when she’s in a bad mood.

But I’m shamefully off topic.  In fact, I haven’t touched the topic.  Here’s a recipe for good old-fashioned sugarplums from Saveur.com.   Make them, and know your poetic images.  As if poetic images should be researched and baked.  Well, they’re not.  NO BAKING REQUIRED FOR THIS.  And they taste good.

Daaang.

There are good fats.  There are bad fats.  And there are game fats.  And game fats are what we must eat during the championships, when games become events.  Now game fats are mostly bad fats, so I caution you, with most of my soul, to keep bad fats for championship season only, which, if you are a Giants fan, is a very rare occurrence.  If you are a Yankees fan, you will consume championship game fats with such frequency that it is dangerous to your health.  So, these recipes are not intended for Yankee fans.  Then again, eat up Yankees. You are, after all, far too numerous, and quite possibly too arrogant and too good for even the Grim Reaper to want to deal with you before he absolutely has to.  Anyway.

Here is a recipe I took without permission from our children’s mean ol’ aunt, Mary.  Who better knows how to make dangerous foods than mean ol’ aunts?  I said ol’ not old.  Aunt Mary is not old.  But she is mean.  And we love her that way.  Often.

• Heat one package of CREAM CHEESE and one can of CHILI in a saucepan on the stove.
• Mix it.
• Dump it in a bowl.
• Serve with corn chips (Fritos Dippers or Trader Joe’s Organic Corn Chips).
• Prepare to be asked a thousand times, What’s in this recipe? Refer them to this post, maybe.

If you are having one of your vegan friends over, like my cute friend Rachel, make guacamole, too.

Killer 'looms

Oh, these colorful fruits of flavorful fiber are such a sight for sore eyes.  After a long summer of KIDS, KIDS, KIDS, and too much wonderful watermelon, these little guys are such a treat.  And they are a sign that there are colder, busier things to come.  Like Halloween decorating.  Thanksgiving.  Christmas and those terrible cookie dough sales for the school sleepover camp because Why do the kids need a sleepover camp?

If you live in the northern hemisphere (shout out to Motherhugger in the southern hemisphere) and are enjoying a bountiful harvest like we are over here in Northern California, get some heirloom tomatoes.  And make a salad for crying out loud.  And quit whining about being fat, like I do. “You are loved,” said the universe to Greta and everyone else, as it handed them bins full of heirloom tomatoes.

Here’s a recipe for classic Caprese Salad, Saving Private Mommy style.  And here’s a more righteous version via Let Them Eat Lentils (d0t com).

Ham Salad. (Blueberries and carrots to provide visual interest and to antioxidize away any guilt from mayonnaise.)

Almost everyone has an uncle.  If you are like my kids you have a LOT of uncles.  A whole mess of them.  And we all know that in families everyone takes on a role.  In our particular collection of uncles, we have some interesting, though common, varieties:  the Alpha Uncle, the Cool Uncle, the Distant Uncle(s), the Crazy Uncle(s), the Young Uncle, the Fun Uncle.  We also have the Oregon Uncle.  His name is Uncle Mark.  And the Oregon Uncle tends to be a fabled character, who may have inadvertently or not so inadvertently avoided the family dynamics by residing in another state.  And he skillfully exists in the periphery, which makes him eternally cool.  We are all more lovable in semi-absentia.

And whenever we gather with Uncle Mark, he proves himself to be of excellent uncle caliber.  And he proved it again on our recent stay in Tahoe.

You will find Uncle Mark wrapped up in a book, wielding a kitchen knife like a culinary magician, yielding concoctions of a supernatural taste, or playing with the kids, the whole gang of them, with a commitment and imagination that puts all of their parents to shame.  Betwixt these regular activities, he helped me brainstorm about my soon-to-be designed sexist clothing line.  That’s right, SEXIST clothing.  How many uncles can make a similar claim?  Sexist clothing design collaborator?  Get out!

Below is one of Mark’s killer concoctions.  He is a chef by trade, and he delivers awesome Ham Salad.  Make this.  It’s perfect for parties or the lunch box.  If you don’t eat ham, my apologies.  Recipe for vegan tabouleh salad is forthcoming

• Dice up some HAM.  Some.  You pick how much.

• Dice some CELERY.  Small dice is a big payoff.

• Slice some ONION.  Make it paper-thin so it can be “veiled” (hidden from the children who think they hate it).  Then chop it.

• Throw some MAYONAISE in there.  A dollop or two at your discretion.  It’s your cardiovascular system, not mine.

• Add some MUSTARD.  Dijon works well.  But use of American mustard is fine and even better for narrowing the US Trade Deficit.

• Add SALT and PEPPER to taste.  Watch this for fun.

• Mix.  Refrigerate.  Let the flavors infect each other like a group of badly behaved children.

• Top salad on CRACKERS or little BREAD SLICES.

• Say, “Oh my God” as you eat. And prepare to be known for this dish and to receive an increase in invitations to pot lucks.

Shop Greta for heartwarming pro-pig products!

ViewMaster Charlotte’s Web – 3 Reel Set (Who owns a ViewMaster these days?)

The Da Vinci Code (for people who don’t want to read children’s books).

"Her majesty would desire a most decadent float of Grand Marnier. O, and a shore on which to rest my royal bum. That is all."

Readers of this blog know how much Greta loves her margaritas.  And when you consider the regularity of Google searches for margaritas that lead to this site, you could call Saving Private Mommy the blog that margaritas built.  And I love showing margaritas my gratitude.  I drink them.

And in the true spirit of my own Gretaness, I convinced my husband to shake (not stir) some of these beverages on the beach for all of us staying at JT’s wife’s cabin.  (I’m preferring this title to her name.)   And all I can tell you is that you MUST make sure that you end up along the shore of one of the most beautiful lakes in the world (in this case Lake Tahoe), and when you do, put one of these in your hand, and you will think that you are the Queen of England or Prince Chaz or the sun-kissed, beach-going equivalent.

I’m still trying to convince myself that I wasn’t drinking actual sugary orange peels in a salty lime bath.  The confluence of citruses, sweetness, and salt was SYMPHONIC.  And before a hot and breezy backdrop with a Godzilla-sized blanket of sapphire-colored water, it was truly a red, plastic, beer cup of perfection.  The only thing missing, was my body being tatted, toned and aglitter with nipple rings.  Thankfully, I would never get nipple rings.  But if I had a tattoo, it would be of this recipe.

• Mix and shake the following ingredients with some ice:  4 oz. Chevy’s FRESH SWEET AND SOUR MIX or other margarita mix, 1 1/4 oz. TEQUILA, 1/4 oz. TRIPLE SEC.
• SALT a frosted glass. Don’t opt for no salt.  Fill glass with ICE.
• Pour strained drink mixture into the glass.  (Strained in a good way.)
• 1/4 oz. GRAND MARNIER (floating as a bronzy layer on the top, like tanning pioneer Coco Chanel in St. Tropez).
• Garnish with a slice or wedge of LIME, and behold the power of live fruit, now dead.

"Watch me, Baby."

Staying at home with our children full time is not unnatural.   Entirely.  Though it doesn’t feel natural after seven years as an over-uber-hyper-employed mom.  Or after many years of too much intensity of work, which, in the new millennium, is nothing unusual.  We have a lot of things to pay for: homes, gadgets, phone bills and bills.  And ‘whatever the market will bear’ is what double-income, overworked families purchase in over-sized, excessive amounts at Costco and everywhere else.  That’s a lot of bearing.

So stopping and listening to a child for truckloads of intervals all day long is such an unfamiliar speed.  And when she tells you in an amazed, three-year-old voice that, “The toast is cooking,” it occurs to you that maybe you should join her in watching it.  WATCHING TOAST COOK?  NO.  NO WAY.

Though I think, maybe, that learning how to watch toast cook is a tiny bit harder than riding on a speed train of adrenaline via deadlines and pushy, close-talking colleagues, who do or don’t have man hands.  And watching toast cook is in no way more noble, but it takes more discipline because there is nothing or no one to blame or bang your head against.  It’s just you, your child, and the toast.

And the elusive ability to savor the mundane.

And to redeem any emptiness in the act of watching toast cook, I give you The Pioneer Woman’s recipe for the BEST CINNAMON TOAST.  IN DA WORLD.  It’s so good, your kids will tell you it’s making the house smell like Ikea.  And they will be right.

• Take some SOFTENED BUTTER and drop it in a bowl.  Unsalted butter, please.  Don’t ask me how much.  It’s your kitchen, not mine.
• Add some CINNAMON.  Some.
• Give it some SUGAR.  A couple of heaping spoonfuls.  Everything will be okay.
• And then, separate yourself from the rest of America by adding a dash of VANILLA EXTRACT.  Or a little more if you want.
• Mix.
• Spread on bread.
• Watch toast cook.
• Eat with coffee.  Serve to the kids with a glass of milk.
• Drop some fruit on the side so you don’t feel like a loser parent.  A few berries will do.
• Let them eat toast.  Enjoy the accolades.  Go back to sleep for 1/2 hour while the kids watch TV in your bed.

Hey, Channa Masala and Naan Bread. Thank you.

I am not really sure what America has done to deserve Trader Joe’s Channa Masala and Naan bread, but I would beam, not run, to the nearest TJ’s to get some.  I am not a connoisseur of Indian cuisine, but after this dish I can’t see why I don’t always set fire to my tongue every night via the food of the biggest democracy in the world.

As if taste good enough to impress even your friends from Berkeley weren’t enough, the meal is VEGETARIAN.  Even your heart loves this!  How often do the tongue and the heart battle over possession of your mind?  Oooooooo.

But here’s the grand finale of good fortune.  THIS IS AVAILABLE IN THE FROZEN SECTION.  So for less effort than walking to the car that will float your healthy rump through the drive-thru, dinner can happen.  To people like you and me.  What a country!

So my recipe for a great dinner is to direct you to the icy boxes of that lovable little grocery store (I swear, not an ad).  Get some Channa Masala and Naan Bread, before you start doubting yourself and decide that you’re just not worth it, because I believe you really are.  Unless you are my brainless and hairless former boss.  In that case, I wish you an eighteen-course meal of all your clothing, accessories included.  That you must cook and eat by yourself.  Naked.

The I Love Trader Joe’s Cookbook: 150 Delicious Recipes Using Only Foods from the World’s Greatest Grocery Store

Quick and Healthy Meals from Trader Joe’s

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We love you, Marge.

I have uncovered the formula for a margarita that is worthy of the Top Shelf of your Cadillac.  The one that inspired The Drunk Blog and the The Drunk Blog Part Two, Plus a Tangent on Cannery Woe.  With the help of Chevys.com, and numerous attempts by my husband, I have the recipe, that on Chevy’s unwitting behalf, I will share with you.  And then we’ll call it free advertisement.

This one has the right mix of sweet and sour, thanks to Chevy’s sweet and sour mix and that ALL-IMPORTANT FLOAT OF GRAND MARNIER.   That’s what gives you the most sensational, happy collision of ying, yang, and yong:  lime, lemon and orange.  If a citrus orchard were to explode in your mouth, it would taste just like this.  And it would be the best thing to happen to you since Farmville and sleeping in.

I’m going to violate the No Measuring Rule here at Saving Private Mommy, but as in making a good brownie, you need the precision of a naval aviator on Fleet Week.    So measure, mix, dip and squeeze with studied accuracy and then welcome yourself to your very own Margaritaville.  Drink sparingly and only with the perfect guacamole at hand, which, coincidentally, I have a recipe for, right here.

• Mix and shake the following ingredients with some ice:  4 oz. Chevy’s FRESH SWEET AND SOUR MIX or other margarita mix, 1 1/4 oz. TEQUILA, 1/4 oz. TRIPLE SEC.
• SALT a frosted glass. Don’t opt for no salt.  Fill glass with ICE.
• Pour strained drink mixture into the glass.  (Strained in a good way.)
• 1/4 oz. GRAND MARNIER (floating as a bronzy layer on the top, like tanning pioneer Coco Chanel in St. Tropez).
• Garnish with a slice or wedge of LIME, and behold the power of live fruit, now dead.

SPECIAL NOTE for people who don’t pay attention to units of measurement at the bar scene:  1 shot equals 1 oz. of tequila.  The simplicity of that and the order of the rest of the universe certainly makes you believe in a higher power.  Doesn’t it?

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Photo from Recipe Matcher.com, only because it's late and I'm going to the bakery like I suggested to you, but I have made these numerous times and I stand by them, but would prefer to stand in them.

For Easter I wanted to give a dessert recipe because ham is so room temperature and so easy.  And, of course, you’re going to serve it with some asparagus, and a salad, and, that’s just easy, and for an appetizer you’ll just need some guacamole and bruschetta, nothing fancy.  But you need dessert.

It’s serious business and you’re running out of ideas, and I’m thinking about the bunny cakes that my mom used to cut out of two cake rounds, but that was the 70s, and you’re thinking about the Williams-Sonoma cake mold pan and how you can just sprinkle the 3-d bunny cake with powdered sugar, but in the end, you’re tired, and if you have kids, Spring Break is coming and we all know what that means, so I’d like to encourage you to go to the bakery or supermarket, and get some light tart, either lemon or berry, and just serve that.  It’s spring and it’s Easter and Passover, and it’s time to lighten up a bit, not just the palate but the ambition as well.

Bakeries make professional quality desserts, and why should you try to be a professional just because Jesus resurrected?  Jesus reverse sky dives and walks on water, but not you, nor do you have to at this time.  I urge you, go to the bakery and get something for people to carelessly shove in their mouths or something that the skinny people are just going to push around their plates to look like they eat.

But if you’re really dying for a dessert, okay, okay, here’s this one.  Lemon Bars. From the Better Homes and Gardens New Cook Book. They are classic, perhaps a bit common, but they are very tasty and sweetly tart and they are not chocolate which is so Christmas and Valentine’s Day and Standard Time.  Plus you will be living in a chocolate Mecca of bunnies and eggs, so chill out with the dessert already.

• Combine 2 cups FLOUR, 1/2 cup SIFTED POWDERED SUGAR (Only don’t sift it.  Never sift things.  Sifting is crucial to a quality product, but if you sift you will feel so victimized that you will never bake again), 2 tablespoons CORN STARCH, 1/4 teaspoon SALT, and 3/4 cup BUTTER.  PULSE in the food processor, and you will know why people fall in love with household appliances.  When it resembles cornmeal, plop it into a greased baking pan.  Press it along bottom to form a crust.  BAKE in 350° oven for 18 MINUTES until golden.

• Next, in a bowl, WHISK 4 EGGS, 1 1/2 cups GRANULATED SUGAR, 3 tablespoon FLOUR, 1 teaspoon LEMON ZEST, 3/4 cups LEMON JUICE, 1/4 cup HALF-AND-HALF, LIGHT CREAM or MILK.  POUR the lemon mixture onto the crust and, whoa steady girl, don’t spill it all over the floor because your husband will hate to have to mop again.  I mean, he just mopped and now you…

• Let it BAKE for 15 or 20 MINUTES until the center is set or it’s the about the consistency of your thighs.  If you are really fit, don’t bake it to match your thighs.  Buns of steel is not a good consistency for lemon bars.  Men, don’t bake it until it’s as hairy as you are.

• Let it COOOL before SIFTING (go ahead, this time) POWDERED SUGAR on top or it will dissolve in the warm, lemony bar, and you’ll feel totally gypped, yet unable to take it out on something so inanimate and lemony and good.

Cut them in little squares and put them on a gorgeous plate for an elegant presentation.  Refrigerate, please.  Pray that your sister-in-law brought crappy wine, and that you will outdo her in your mother-in-law’s eyes, finally, for once.  Then go in the bathroom, look in the mirror and slap yourself for being such a competitive little twit on Easter.

Eat all the lemon bars that no one eats, feel intense remorse, and vow to lose 20 pounds before the Fourth of July.

Better Homes and Gardens New Cook Book, 15th Edition (Better Homes & Gardens Plaid)