Food and Comfort

     I grew up in a family that was on the generous end of comforting. Both my mom and dad had no trouble expressing their affection and, in hindsight, neither did my older brother.  Granted, it wasn't always "unicorns and rainbows" but conflict was something that was quickly a memory (of course I am excluding my teenage years, I was a downright turd during that time).  But one thing that I found routinely comforting was my dad's ability to cook a meal in 30 minutes.
     Now your probably thinking, "Oh, like Rachel Ray, I love that show!"  WRONG!  Sure. If you have a gas range on an island and all of your ingredients readily accessible and plenty of takes and an editor to boot then yes, a thirty minute meal is not only simple to make, but "YUMMO" as well. BARF!!!  No one in the real world has that much space in the kitchen, and if they do, I bet you they don't even cook!
     My father, on the other hand, was the TRUE pioneer of the thirty minute meal. Mom also helped with the salad and such, but the Dad was the cook of the family.  There was no room for error, no second takes, just fast, wholesome, flavorful food.  (Side note: Mom was no slouch in the kitchen either, but we were on a schedule, and that schedule just didn't have the time. I love you, Mom.)
     So now we get to the inspiration of this post, the theme, the "main idea" if you will.  What so irresistable, so indulgent, so tantalizingly tasteful yet modestly mesmerizing could this comfort food be?

AN OMELET???

     Yes, simple I know, but therein lies the beauty.  So easy to make, yet so many people are terrified of attempting, at least those with which I have spoken.  And with a side of hashbrowns and toast (without butter because you have to cut back somewhere, right?) you have a delicious meal in 30 minutes.

     Growing up, this was our typical Wednesday night meal.  With mom getting home from work at 5:30 and church starting at 6:30 the quickly prepared meal was paramount if our family was to gain admission past the pearly gates (is it the first of the month? great...business meeting...hoorah...). That was an inside joke for any Baptists out there!

     The omelet was also comforting to my dad.  As I remember, he worked late every other Saturday, making sure the i's were dotted and the t's were crossed before the Sunday paper went out. When he got home he would cook an omelet before he went to bed. He ate it too, of course.  And wouldn't you know it, when I went off to college and got a job working at a bar, I would come home after work and do what? Make an omelet.  Not realizing at the time that it was becoming a ritual passed down from one generation to the next.

     So this week my wife, Katie, started teaching the new semester of dance on Wednesday evenings and I resumed my role as chauffeur  to the kiddos from the studio back to our home. After feeding them their supper and getting them settled into their toys I began to rummage through the kitchen looking for something to eat.  There was nothing. Well, almost nothing.  And then it hit me. "I bought eggs for pancakes last Saturday. Do we have cheese? Ah! We do!" And not only that, but I had an extra shallot and some bacon and I was now on a MISSION!

     Some may think an entire shallot is too much for a two-egger. Not me. An entire onion wouldn't be too much for me. I can't help it. When it comes to eating stuff that makes my breath stink I think I have a genetic predisposition.  So an entire shallot (sauteed), three pieces of bacon (cooked then crumbled), cheddar, and some green onion for color surrounded by the soft yellow binding of two beaten eggs was to be my supper for the evening. I didn't have a potato, but I did make some toast (without butter, because you have to cut back somewhere).  

     And I ENJOYED it. Every bit of it. And the kids let me enjoy it. Molly Kate was in her own world with her new doll house, but Walker was in his Exer-saucer a few feet away, sitting in silence, but watching me, with deliberate scrutiny, observing how happy I was as I relished my well deserved victuals. And that made me happy. Seeing my 7 month old son look at me in a way, almost as if he were trying to tell me, with a developing grin, "Dad, that looks great. Can I have what you have?"  And I hope that he does. And I am sure that he will.  Food and comfort.

New Year's Resolutions

     As many others have done, I too have made New Year's Resolutions.  I tried to make mine a little less generic than that of, say, "losing weight" or "being nicer" or "being a better person." Granted those are all valid resolutions and by no means am I looking down, but personally, I need something less cliche.
     So what were my resolutions? Well, as I typed and retyped them while writing this post, I discovered that they were just glorified versions of what I would refer to as cliche.  But at least I have admitted it, so I guess I am no longer in denial about it, so I guess we can move on.
     Resolution #1: To revert back to my days as a practical Catholic. (Catholics that have never been practical Catholics would call this being a "good Catholic," however, I was raised Southern Baptist, so I was taught that there was no such thing as a "good" Catholic, but that deserves its own post, so, moving on)  When I had first converted to Catholicism I was very involved in the church. Attending weekly Mass, observing Holy days of obligation, so on and so forth. Then we had kids, and that ritual began to slowly fade.  We then became the Catholics you only see at Christmas and Easter.  This year, I am going to change that.
     Resolution #2:  Do a better job of being a husband (read: comprehend the words coming from my wife's mouth that are directed toward me).  And the words that aren't directed towards me as well.  As a male, I have a highly developed auditory system. So advanced, in fact, that I can choose what I want to hear and cancel everything else out.  The wife finds this to be very annoying, especially when I ask her for the 5th time about anything.  Granted, we just had an addition to the family back in May, so I am still adjusting to the new dynamic, not that I am making excuses, because I am, but I like to give myself the benefit of the doubt, especially when it comes to the use of commas.  My wife is an amazing woman. She is a miracle worker with the kids, me included. I love her, I need her, and I have resolved to do a better job of showing her that.
     Resolution #3: Cook more. Have you ever seen the movie Julie and Julia? Well, not cooking like that. That's crazy. But at least cook a meal three nights out of the week. I'm not that bad in front of a stove so this shouldn't be a problem.  I just need to make a game plan.
     Resolution #4:  Build my skills as a photographer.  At the moment, I would technically be classified as somewhere between enthusiast and amateur.  I picked up a Nikon dSLR about 2 years ago and it changed the way I looked at things, so becoming better at this venture to the point of generating modest income would be nice.
     So thats it. Those are my resolutions for the new year.  It's day one. How am I doing, you may ask?  Well let me enlighten you!
We skipped mass because we are all sick with sneezing, coughing, and everything that is on the Nyquil commercial,  I made a flippant remark to my wife which didn't make her a happy camper, and I did not take one single photograph today. Not one!  As a matter of fact, my only saving grace comes from my wife asking me to make this southwestern dip that she had bought at some fair. So technically I did cook something. Although it had so much cheese in it that it that my arteries began to soften a bit just recently.


Well thats my first post for you wandering readers of the blogoshere.  May your New Year be blessed.