How do two people eat a full head of broccoli, two bunches of green onions, four jalapeno peppers, and a pound of asparagus in one day? Frittata, that’s how!
I’ve never been afraid of going off-script when it comes to making holiday dinners – or any dinner for that matter, and this year I’m going Full Metal Jacket on my family: I’m not making a (whole) turkey.
Do you crave the char flavor or the double-American cheese blast? Is a tasty homemade bun what you need or a pile of pickles, shredded lettuce, and secret sauce dripping down your hand? So many burgers…so little time.
Sometimes on a Sunday, before I do my grocery shopping for the upcoming week, I pull all the veggies I didn’t get around to using during the previous week and make something — sometimes a pot of minestrone, other times a big sheet pan of roasted random veggies. Today it was fritters!
Now that all four of my children are away at college, and by away, I mean the closest one is three hours away and the furthest is 2000 miles away, the days of cooking for six are finished—at least on a regular basis. Not only did I cook for six, but they demanded leftovers.
I like to cook. But I’m a busy person. For most of my meals, I try to come up with something that’s made from scratch, with ingredients that were grown, and/or raised humanely. I stay away from overly processed foods about 90% of the time. Here’s a few examples of my most popular half-scratch meals.
Regardless of what kind of job you have, getting dinner on the table when you are a busy parent is no easy task, but it’s not impossible. I also cook from scratch as much as possible. Here’s a few tips on how to get homemade-ish meals on the table that your family will love.
Now that I’m reaching the twenty-five-twice mark (it’s my age and I’ll describe it in my terms) I’ve become fond of eating real, healthy food, 90% of the time. What I do the other 10% of the time is mine, and I own it. But if I can make good choices most of the time, I’m good.
This morning, I got out of bed. To make matters worse, I decided to bake something, at the ungodly hour of 6:30 a.m. I hate baking for one reason: I don’t like to measure. I’ll make a sauce, throw together a stew or soup, all without benefit of measuring a single thing.
Now I’m serving up the juicy, fork-tender meat with the browned exterior that a crock pot just can’t deliver. I make everything from coq-au-vin to lamb stew, and even blackberry cobbler with the help of my little friend.