Archive: January 2010

Over the past several months, JG and I have added several new, easy dinners to the rotation, and I’m embarrassed that I didn’t think to share them earlier. Without further ado, here they are!

Herb chicken with creamy orzo
I initially saw a version of this first recipe at Annie’s Eats, and JG made it for dinner soon afterward with delicious results. However, I wondered if I could hack it to behave the same way as the one-pot dishes I love from America’s Test Kitchen and eliminate the pot and colander for the orzo. After a bit of trial and error, I did it! The recipe is after the jump, but it follows the same basic principles: cook the meat, throw in the aromatics, deglaze the pan, add some liquid, cook the starch, and put it all together in the end. It only took me 35 minutes to make with no advance preparation, there’s only one pan to clean (okay, plus a cutting board and other sundries), and it yields enough leftovers for JG and me to eat lunch the next day. I am ridiculously proud of myself for figuring out how to adapt this recipe, even though I know it’s simple. I feel like I’m emerging ever-so-slightly out of my strict adherence to recipes to make them work for me.

One other one-pot meal that earned immediate binder status was this skillet baked ziti. If you don’t have an oven-safe skillet, you can transfer it to a casserole dish, but that will negate the one-pot-ness of it. Also, I deviated just slightly from the recipe to use diced tomatoes instead of processing the whole ones. Regardless, it is easy! And delicious! And cheap!

Hot sandwiches
I know, it’s like rocket science over here. Seriously, though, the only hot sandwiches we ever made regularly were grilled cheese ones, and that was usually a Sunday lunch or a “we have nothing left in the fridge” last resort. Since then, we’ve graduated to two new ones:

• Mozzarella and roasted red pepper pressed sandwiches: We got the idea from the America’s Test Kitchen cookbook (shocker!), but the basic gist is that you slice some crusty rolls (like focaccia or ciabatta), spread them with pesto, and layer slices of nicer mozzarella cheese and roasted red peppers with a sprinkle of salt and pepper, plus a dash of balsamic vinegar if that sounds appealing. Brush the sandwiches with olive oil and press them on a griddle with a heavy pot on top — or use a Foreman grill like we do — and keep an eye out for slippage. You can make your own pesto and roast your own red peppers, but jarred products are fine, and they keep well in the pantry.
• Portobello mushroom sandwiches: I was suspicious of this recipe when I first saw it. English muffins? Dijon mustard? But, oh, you have to try it before you knock it. Not only is this sandwich easy and fast, but you can make the garlic-herb butter in bulk and in advance, and it keeps well in the freezer for future sandwiches (or, you know, garlic bread). I will note that one sandwich each was not enough for dinner for the two of us, so we normally go with two sandwiches apiece, plus a vegetable on the side. Also, aim for portobello caps that are about the same size as the English muffin; if you opt for the monster ones, you will have a messy (albeit delicious) sandwich. Not that I am speaking from experience, or anything.

The down side to sandwiches for dinner is the lack of leftovers, but they are a good way to mix things up on a Friday night or if we already have enough lunches for the week.

Soups
I got JG an immersion blender for Christmas. It was not a completely selfless act on my part because I knew that it would increase our soup consumption, and I have a deep love for soup. With his new toy, JG has jumped on board the soup wagon, and we now have it once a week. Woo! Soup is a great leftover lunch the next day (and the day after that), and it’s helpful to bulk up lighter dinners, like when we have sandwiches. We’ve also leaned toward soups for our weekly no-meat night. If you don’t have an immersion blender, a regular blender or food processor will do the job, but be careful pouring that hot soup!

• Broccoli soup: JG uses the America’s Test Kitchen version, but we have tried and also liked this one, which is lighter, with a lemon tang.
• Mushroom soup: This version from Anthony Bourdain is our standby, and I think JG omits the sherry.

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Are there any other easy, weeknight dinners lying in wait out there? I am all ears…

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JG and I may go to bed at the same time, but we do not fall asleep at the same time. He’s out immediately after kissing me good night, and then I hunker down to read until the book drops from my hands. Last night, I stayed up far too late. At the end of each section, I’d check my wakefulness, only to determine that, yes, I was still alert enough to keep reading. At one point, I glanced to my right JG. He was sleeping beatifically, oblivious to my nocturnal observations. The LED in my book light gleamed eerily white, throwing everything in its glow into a strange, film noir color scheme. I watched JG breathe, up and down, and his face, hair, and sheets were a composition in black and gray. I considered him briefly. Everyone looks friendly and peaceful when asleep, I decided. It was a pleasant way to imagine someone.

And then JG stirred and blinked, and the light reflected in his eyes.  “I love you,” he said groggily, and he leaned over to kiss me before turning over onto his other side, away from the glare.

“I love you, too,” I said, a little spellbound.

The Happiness Project, by Gretchen Rubin, is a memoir chronicling her year-long quest in the pursuit of happiness. At the beginning of the book, she describes the start of her project:

… as I sat on that crowded bus, I grasped two things: I wasn’t as happy as I could be, and my life wasn’t going to change unless I made it change. In that single moment, with that realization, I decided to dedicate a year to trying to be happier.

First, Rubin had to figure out if she believed she could change her level of happiness, and if so, what that would even look like. She explained her reasoning in the “Getting Started” section, and I found her research fascinating. I can’t imagine how much she must have read to come to the conclusion that, yes, she could affect her personal level of happiness, which she loosely defined as “positive affect,” “subjective well-being,” and “I’ll know it when I see it.”

As an attorney-turned-writer, Rubin tackled the year in a manner I very much admired. For each month, she focused on a specific area of her life to improve (energy, marriage, parenting, gratitude), which entailed a handful of pertinent resolutions.  For example, one of her goals for March, the Work month, was to launch a blog, which is still alive and well. Every night, Rubin evaluated her performance on a Resolution Chart, which helped her summarize her progress at the end of each month and chapter.

When I was reading this book and I described the premise to someone, the response was usually, “Oh, like Eat Pray Love?” Well, yes. And no. Yes, because both books cover life changes over the course of a year. But, no, vehemently no, because The Happiness Project is completely mundane, but that’s what makes it so personable. Rubin never left her New York apartment. She wasn’t financed by a book deal. Her venture wasn’t spurred by trauma. As she put it, she wanted to change her life without changing her life. For me, reading Eat Pray Love was like listening to an invited speaker in college as an act of escapism, but The Happiness Project was like chatting with your girlfriend at a sidewalk bistro. In some ways, that’s what makes its content a lot more thought-provoking, because if you’re anything like me, you start thinking, Hm, maybe I could do this.

Of course, it helped that I identified strongly with Rubin, who described herself as someone who always wants that gold star. Her methodology resonated with me, even when it highlighted areas of weakness. That said, I can understand if it comes off as somewhat militant and rigid. As Rubin emphasizes, everyone’s happiness project will look different because different things make different people happy. So, if a chart isn’t your deal, that’s okay.

I didn’t love everything about this book; I was turned off just slightly by the mantra-esque aspects, like the principles that eventually become The Four Splendid Truths and Rubin’s personal Twelve Commandments. There are sections that quote comments from her blog, and although the sentiments were relevant, they disrupted the first-person narrative in my brain.

I thought The Happiness Project was wonderfully researched, accessible, and (dare I say it?) inspirational. Most of all, it was thought-provoking. I’m still thinking about how I affect my own level of happiness, and how, by striving to become a happier, lighter person, I might impact more than my immediate person. I am for darn sure keeping my copy for future reference and another read-through.

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I received this book as a free sample from HarperCollins. If you’d like a chance to win your own copy and you live in the United States or Canada (sorry, other countries!), please leave a comment! Comments will close at 8pm Eastern Time on Sunday, January 24, and I will choose one winner randomly. Good luck!

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Edited to add: The comments are now closed, and the winner has been selected. Congratulations to Tammy O!

Yesterday, I had an anxiety-ridden monologue on repeat in my brain:

I really wish I had some freelance work. Why isn’t anyone getting back to me? Is it still too early in the year to solicit work? How often can I follow up before I cross the line into Annoyingville? I can’t believe it’s already mid-January, which means I’m already one-twelfth of the way until June. Was that an overly aggressive timeline? I didn’t think so; freelance editors make plenty of money in order for me to reach my goal in six months, but not me, apparently. If I don’t get work, I won’t be able to take the certification exam or finish my editing certificate or get to network during the conference. Maybe I can’t do this. Maybe I’m not cut out to do my own business development. But I’m going to have to do this if I want to freelance full-time. I’m already a failure!

In need of reassurance, I plopped on the couch next to JG and said, “I’m starting to get nervous about having any freelance work.”

“Why?”

“I need to pay for the trip to Milwaukee so I can take the editing exam and finish my certificate.”

“But you don’t have to go to Milwaukee, right?”

Something in me flared up. “No,” I snapped. “I don’t have to go.”

“Right,” JG continued, “so it’s not going toward the mortgage or something.”

Yes, that was true. Also, annoying. I knew he was trying to help by showing me that it wasn’t a big deal, that my lack of hypothetical earnings weren’t putting us in debt or forcing us onto the street, but still.

I tried again. “It’s symbolic,” I said. “It’s how I know I’ll be able to do this in the long term.”

“I think you’re good enough to get paid to edit, dear.”

Somehow, that rubbed me the wrong way, too. I know I’m good enough to get paid! Where are the other people who think this way, too? Like people who are not already contributing to our household’s net income? Tell me that!

In response, I spat, “Thanks.”

After a pause, JG said, “I’m sorry I don’t know what to say.”

A punch to the gut! I felt even worse than before, when at least I hadn’t realized that I didn’t have to go to Milwaukee, I hadn’t found anyone who thought I was skilled and could pay me, and I was being high-maintenance and demanding. What a good night for revelations!

Stymied, I stalked off to the kitchen to make dinner, and as I chopped garlic and separated broccoli florets, I remembered reading somewhere about how women can come into situations with a certain script in mind. There’s an idea of how the scene should play out, even if it’s totally irrational, so when disappointment strikes, the scriptwriter gets annoyed, but no one knows why, least of all herself.

What did I have in my script? In the end, I wanted to feel better, but how was JG supposed to know how to get me there? Off the top of my head (still chopping), I imagined a few drafts:

Situation A: Annoying optimism

RA: I’m starting to get nervous about having any freelance work.

JG: Don’t worry, everything will be fine!

RA: Oh, shut up.

Situation B: Stressful problem-solving

RA: I’m starting to get nervous about having any freelance work.

JG: Have you tried everything you can? Did you ask your contacts for connections? Is your resume updated? Is there anyone else you can ask for advice?

RA: Leave me alone!

Situation C: Infuriating indifference

RA: I’m starting to get nervous about having any freelance work.

JG: Mm hmm.

RA:  Why don’t you care?!

Hm. So far, all of these were awful in comparison to reality, and even if I could pick out the ideal response from JG, what was the point? If he didn’t say it, I’d be disappointed anyway. I was setting him up for failure by trying to engineer the conversation.

Bluh. I mentally added “manipulative harpie” to that list of unpleasant realizations and resolved to cut to the chase and ask for a hug the next time.