Cooking without cheese

I have a sneaking suspicion my 11-week-old is insensitive to milk protein (that she gets through breastfeeding), so I’m cutting out all dairy for two weeks to see if it makes a difference.  I’m pretty sad about giving up yogurt, but the biggest challenge is going to be cooking without cheese.  I cook a LOT of things with cheese.

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Last night, I made a deep-dish taco pizza.  As I grated the cheese that would be sprinkled all over the top of the pizza, I kept reaching to pinch some shreds of cheese between my fingers and eat it.  It’s usually my reward for grating cheese because I HATE grating cheese.  But of course, I had to continually slap my hand and tell myself that cheese is currently off-limits.

I scattered the cheese all over half of the pizza, because only my husband would get to eat that part.  When the pizza came out of the oven he looked at it, perplexed, and said, “How can you eat a taco pizza without any cheese?”

I should have slapped him.

(Don’t worry, there isn’t actually any husband-slapping occurring in this house.)

So, one dinner down, 13 to go.  I will be scouring Pinterest and my recipe-books for dairy-free recipes, and I will be avoiding anything that involves cheese so I’m not being teased like I was last night.  Sorry, B, if I’m going cheese-free, so are you.

Any favorite dairy-free recipes you can recommend?

 

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Kitchen Showdown

Yesterday I cooked dinner in the crock pot, so it is now in the kitchen sink filled with soapy water to soak off all of the food crusted to the inside.  Chances are it will still be there three or even four days from now.  My husband doesn’t want to clean it and neither do I, so this will result in a Kitchen Showdown.

A couple weeks ago, I made tacos for dinner.  When my husband was cleaning up, he put a lid on the dish of refried beans and stuck them in the fridge.  We were never going to use up the leftover beans and both of us knew that.  But as B slid them into the refrigerator, this was the conversation:

B:  I’m just going to save these because I hate cleaning up refried beans.
Me:  Wait.  So you’re putting them in the fridge so I eventually get annoyed by them and clean them up myself?
B:  Yes.

A week after that, we were putting away groceries after a shopping trip.  B always puts away dry goods and I take care of the refrigerated and frozen items.  Of course, as I was clearing out room in the fridge, those DAMN BEANS were still sitting there.  I removed the dish and placed it on the kitchen counter next to the sink.  And I left it there.  As B was cleaning up the kitchen after dinner that evening, he picked up the dish and said, “You left this here for me, didn’t you?”  And then he threatened to just throw the dish away.  After I threatened to throw him away if he didn’t just clean it up, he finally did it, grumbling through the whole process.

Well, it’s a similar story with the crock pot.  It’s always a hassle to clean and neither of us wants to do it.  One of us will at least fill it with water to let it soak, but after that it’s a game to see who gets annoyed enough with it to finally finish cleaning it.

It’s going to be a problem once my maternity leave ends at the end of the month.  I won’t have much time to cook during the week, so the plan is to do freezer dump meals every night—which means the crock pot must be cleaned immediately after each use.  It’s probably time to invest in the crock pot liners I’ve seen or we’re in a lot of trouble.

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A tale of unfolded baby clothes

When I was pregnant with E, I worked hard on the organization in her nursery.  I carefully planned out where every little thing would live and I arranged and rearranged until everything felt perfect.  I even went so far as to Google how to properly fold her baby clothes because I meant business.

One night I went into the nursery with my laptop, put on some music, and spent nearly an hour folding E’s little sleepers and onesies and teeny-tiny little pants.  My belly was huge by then and I’d spent so long hunched over on the floor that I had a hard time getting back up.  But I was PROUD of my handiwork.  When I told my husband and my mom about it, they both gave me this odd smirk and claimed I would never keep it up.  And I laughed at them.  Why wouldn’t I keep it up?  What was I going to do, just toss everything into the drawers and call it good?

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Yep.  Yes, that’s exactly what I did.

The fancy, folded baby clothes lasted until the third time I washed a load of E’s laundry.  For the first two rounds, I would ask my husband to entertain E while I sneaked away to fold her clothes and put them away nicely in her drawers.  Both times I knew I was wasting my time because these days I can’t even get my damn bathroom clean, but I had been so hell-bent on proving my mom and husband wrong that I was going to stick with it.  HA!

By the third load of baby laundry, I wondered what it would feel like if I just tossed everything in the drawers and walked away.

It was LIBERATING.

I have not folded a single item of baby clothing since.  E’s drawers look like a hot mess and I don’t care.  It’s worth the extra 15 minutes a day.

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Now that I know how it feels, I just have to be careful not to do it with my own clothing…

Be honest, new moms:  do you fold your baby’s clothes?

Frank’s Red Hot ruined my breakfast

I have the same thing for breakfast every day:  egg whites on toast with a banana and coffee.  Even though it never changes, I love my breakfast.  Maybe that’s WHY it never changes.

But sometimes I do wonder if it’s a little boring.  For a few weeks I added cheese to my egg whites and that was fun and all, but it wasn’t conducive to my postpartum weight loss plan.

Suddenly it clicked: I’ve heard from a lot of people that Frank’s Red Hot is great on everything.  I’ve also been told it’s phenomenal on eggs.  So it was decided: today I would try Frank’s Red Hot on my egg whites.  I like Frank’s Red Hot.  I like egg whites.  How could this go wrong?

…….

Yeah, it went wrong.  I shouldn’t have listened to that “lot of people” who said the sauce was great on everything.  I’ve also heard from a lot of people that sushi is delicious, but I hate sushi and you couldn’t pay me to eat it.

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Nope.

I didn’t care for Frank’s Red Hot on my eggs.  I still ate it because a) I’m breastfeeding and need the food, but b) I was too lazy to scramble another pan of eggs.  But I won’t be doing it again and I won’t be getting experimental with my bottle of Frank’s Red Hot.  If it’s good on everything, “everything” must mean just chicken.

Forgive me, Father…

For I have sinned.  It has been roughly 30 days since my last bathroom cleaning.

Hi, MCYOD readers.  Long time no see?  Well, that’s what happens when you have a  baby!

My daughter E was born in February and motherhood is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.  I. Love. This. Girl.

But it’s no lie when you hear about how hard it is to cook, clean, and exercise when you have a newborn.  E is ten weeks old and I have cleaned my bathroom ONCE since she evacuated my uterus.

Somehow I still manage to cook, which is good news coming from the woman whose blog’s name contains the word “cook.”  Most of the time it’s nothing fancy, like tacos or spaghetti, but every so often I get ambitious (like last night) and I make mashed potatoes.  If you think mashed potatoes aren’t fancy, you must be new here.  Potatoes are my arch nemesis.

Now that E is starting to have some identifiable nap time, I figured it’s a good time to make my way back here.  I’ve missed you all.  I hope you’ve missed me.

(And if you’re asking why I’m not using E’s nap time to clean my bathroom:  don’t.  When I can clean my bathroom sitting on my butt on the couch, then we’ll talk.)

Tip of the Week: Recipe Read-Throughs

A cooking tips article on Lifehacker’s website indicates that reading recipes in full before starting to cook is a “no-brainer.” Eeek. Since I began teaching myself how to cook, this is something I’ve failed to do—but what’s worse is that until recently, I never realized how dumb it is that I’ve skipped this very important cooking 101 tidbit.

I shamefully admit my laziness has been to blame. As long as the recipe indicates a “start-to-finish” time, I tack on ten minutes for my slowness and dive right in, thinking that reading the recipe in its entirety is wasting precious time.

But wouldn’t ya know it, it’s just the opposite! I recently started reading my recipes all the way through prior to cooking, because it helped me to set up my mise en place (which I was also trying to improve on). I was amazed at how much more smoothly my cooking experiences went!

It’s like walking in the dark. In a dark room, you can still make it from point A to point B by feeling your way around, slowly but surely. But if you turn on a light, you get there much more quickly because you can see what’s around you and you’re not fumbling. Reading the recipe before cooking is like turning on that light, because you can see what’s ahead of you.

Rolling in Dough

Over the weekend, I was bit by the baking bug. It happens quite rarely, but when it does…oh boy.

And of course I didn’t start off with something easy. On Sunday morning, I drank a cup of coffee for a burst of energy and then stepped right into my bread-makin’ shoes. (Note: I didn’t actually have any shoes on while I made bread. I did, however, bust out my trusty pink floral apron.)

Right off the bat, my husband had little faith in me. I can’t say I blame him. He’s more familiar than anyone with my work in the kitchen. But he had good reason to be weary of my bread’s success; I was making a mixed-grain bread that called for quite a bit of whole-wheat flour, which is notoriously more difficult to bake with than your standard all-purpose flour.

The husband went out for a mountain bike ride and I got to work mixing and kneading…and kneading…and kneading. Honestly, longest six minutes of my life.

And when my husband returned home, look at what I got to gloat about:

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He was quite impressed. Truthfully, it was too early to be genuinely impressed, as I hadn’t yet tasted it. Luckily, the first bite validated my ability as a baker; I baked one seriously delicious loaf of bread! I was telling my coworker about it, and in a surprised tone she asked, “You made your own bread? Like, with a bread machine?” Let me tell you how good it felt to tell her that I did all the dirty work by hand: it felt goooooooooooood.

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That same afternoon, I made these Oreo Cheesecake Cookies:

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I’m pretty sure this was the simplest cookie recipe I’ve ever used, and the cookies were to die for. I took them to a family get-together that evening, and within five minutes, they were gone. Every last one of them.

I recently posted a rant about my food looking nothing like the pictures in the recipes I find online, and what made me happiest about these cookies is that mine looked exactly like the pictures in the original recipe. FINALLY.

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Have you baked anything good lately?