Curry Fried Rice

We eat a lot of Asian food around here.

It's probably because RJ is half Vietnamese and he loves loves loves it.

My boys are big fans of it, too.

I was pretty slow to come on board, though.  Until I was an old married woman, I had never even so much as TASTED of anything that could be considered even slightly Asian, and even after I tasted it a couple dozen times, I really didn't like it.  It took me years - literally YEARS - of tasting and trying different foods that RJ was so crazy about before I could even say "Yeah, that tasted ok."

And now I love it.  Within reason, of course.  Although my roots will always be in white bread, potatoes, and biscuits and gravy, I can whip up a batch of fried rice with the best of them now, and even enjoy eating it.

Last week I made some Vietnamese pancakes and I needed a side dish that would complement the curry flavor.  I had some white rice that had been hanging out in my fridge for a while, so Curry Fried Rice it became.

And it was good.

Very, very good.

[Printable Recipe]

WHAT YOU NEED:

4 cups cooked white rice.  Older is better.  If it's been hanging out in your fridge for a few days, that's best.  At MINIMUM, cook it, let it cool, then refrigerate it for at least an hour or two.

1 small red pepper, finely diced

1 carrot, shredded

3 green onions, finely diced (greens too)

2 eggs, beaten

2 tablespoons canola or vegetable oil

2 tablespoons butter

1/4 cup soy sauce

2 cloves of garlic 

1 tablespoon curry powder

1-2 teaspoons chili garlic sauce, depending on your love of things spicy (you can buy this in the Asian food section of most grocery stores, but if you don't have any, double up on the amount of garlic and throw in some crushed red pepper flakes instead)

WHAT YOU DO:

In the blender or food processor, blend the soy sauce, garlic, curry powder and chili garlic sauce, until smooth.  Set aside.

In a large skillet or wok, heat the oil and butter over medium heat, then add in the red pepper, carrot and green onion.  Saute for a minute, then add in the beaten egg, stirring constantly until the egg is firm.  Add the rice, stirring constantly until the rice is heated through and the egg and vegetables are incorporated. Now turn the heat to high and add in the soy sauce mixture, stirring constantly.  When the rice begins to stick to the pan, it's done.  

Yum.

Vegetable Lo Mein. From the best Asian restaurant in town.

There are foreigners among us, where by "foreigners" I mean all my boys, who are of the Vietnamese persuasion, and by "among us" I mean in my house.  And they all LOVE them some Asian food.  So even though my tastes run more toward biscuits and gravy, beans and cornbread, fried chicken and mashed potatoes, and grain alcohol, I have learned over the years to cook things with a semi-Asian flair.  Is it authentic?  Some of it.  RJ's mother has seen to that.  Is it good?  All of it.  Even my redneck-I-only-eat-deep-fried-things-made-from-white-flour-and-cornmeal taste buds water for homemade spring rolls and pho.

My latest undertaking has been vegetable lo mein.  This is definitely the more Americanized restaurant takeout style, not the more traditional "this is a big pile of noodles for your soup" style.  But it is damn tasty, and far better - and better for you - than what you can buy at the China One Buffet King, or wherever.

[Printable Recipe]

WHAT YOU NEED:

One pound of lo mein noodles.  Just go into your local Asian food store and ask what kind of noodles are best for lo mein.  They will tell you.  It is not an ancient Chinese secret.  I have heard of people using spaghetti or some such, but that just seems so wrong to me.  If you aren't gonna put meatballs on it, put the spaghetti away. 

This is what RJ came back from the Asian food store with, and it was perfect.

When I first saw this kind, I wasn't sure if they would be good because they were kinda flat noodles, not the round ones that I was used to.  Then I read the back of the box, and I felt much better.  

I can set my mind at ease?  You will safeguard my expenditure?  Well allllllllright!  Nothing to worry about, then.

YOU WILL ALSO NEED:

1/2 tsp. fresh ginger - I keep a big hunk in the freezer.  It will store for months and months.  I lopped off a quarter inch piece and while it was mostly still frozen, zested it up with my microplane.

3-4 cloves of garlic, finely minced

1/3 cup soy sauce - I use the low sodium kind, because I read the label on the full-strength stuff one time and realized two tablespoons had my RDA of sodium.  Ummm, I still need my potato chips, ya know... You cannot tell the difference.  Get the low sodium stuff.  Really. 

1 tablespoon Hoisin sauce

1 teaspoon sesame seed oil

I bought the two ingredients above at my local Kroger.  They are yummy.  They are a bit pricey.  A little goes a long way.  They are totally worth it, especially the sesame oil.  I could drink that stuff, but be careful not to overdo it like I did the first time because it does have a strong flavor that will overpower everything else if you use too much.

1 medium onion, thinly sliced

3-4 green onions, roughly chopped

1-2 cups sliced mushooms.  Canned, fresh, whatever

1 cup bean sprouts, or not, if you don't like bean sprouts

1 16 oz. bag frozen stir fry vegetables.  I used the Wal-Mart brand, and they worked just fine.  

1-2 tsp. canola oil, or vegetable oil, or whatever other frying oil you have

WHAT YOU DO:

Cook the noodles according to the package directions.  My particular package recommended that I "Put noodles into boiling water and stir till water is reboiling up.  While water boiling make flame weak so avoid it over boiling over."   Simple, huh?  When they're done, drain and rinse them and set them aside.

Next in a large pan or wok, heat the canola oil, then begin to saute the onions - both kinds.  After a couple minutes over medium heat, start adding in the mushrooms, the bean sprouts, the garlic and the ginger.  Give that a minute to saute, then add in the frozen vegetables.  Continue to heat it over medium heat until the veggies are warm through, then add in the soy sauce, Hoisin sauce and sesame seed oil.  Heat till it begins to bubble.

Now add in the noodles, a few at a time, stirring and stirring and stirring and stirring until all the noodles are incorporated into the veggies and sauce.  There will be much stirring.  You will think there isn't enough sauce.  There is.  You just need to keep stirring ;-)

Eat it all.  It's delightful.  

If I would have had some leftover roast chicken or pork, I would have thrown that in, too.  This would be a fabulous way to use up any leftover meat or veggies you have lurking in the fridge.  

This is a meal unto itself, but I had some of my famous spring rolls in the freezer, so I thawed some of those to go with the lo mein, and it was good in my mouth.  

 

Vietnamese Pancakes. A secret family recipe.

When I think of comfort food, I think of mashed potatoes, gravy and biscuits, cornbread and potato soup, and chocolate pudding made with graham crackers, as God intended.

When RJ thinks of comfort food, he thinks of spring rolls, whole fish cooked WITH THE HEADS STILL ON, and these Vietnamese pancakes.

He has mentioned them a time or twenty over the years, so last week when I saw RJ's mom, I took the opportunity to ask her for the recipe.

Hmmm.

Then I came home and Googled it, and came up with these.

RJ said they are "almost" like what his mom made.

The boys and I LOVED them.

That's close enough to authentic for me.

Do you like how my fancy Vietnamese food is plopped down right in the middle of zj's Spiderman plate? Yeah, me too.

WHAT YOU NEED:
1 can of coconut milk
1 cup rice flour (you can find this at any Asian food store, or in the gluten-free section of the grocery)
3 green onions
1 1/2 tablespoons curry powder

1 1/2 cup cooked pork tenderloin meat, sliced and chopped into matchstick-sized pieces
1 1/2 cup of bean sprouts, washed and dried
1 medium white or yellow onion, cut into pieces similar in shape and size to the sprouts and pork

Vegetable or canola oil for frying


WHAT YOU DO:
Pour the coconut milk, rice flour, green onions and curry powder in your food processor or blender and blend it up for a couple minutes.  The consistency you're going for is a thick pancake batter.  If it's too thick to pour, add a couple tablespoons of water then give it whirl in the food processor again.  Set the batter aside.

It a skillet over medium heat, add a teaspoon of oil,  the pork, bean sprouts, and the onion.  Saute it, stirring occasionally, until the onion is translucent.  Remove the meat mixture from the skillet and wipe out any remaining residue.

Add another teaspoon of oil to the skillet and put it back over medium heat.  This next bit is sort of an art.  Add enough of the batter to cover the bottom of the skillet, swirling it around for even coverage like you would with say a really thin omelet or a crepe.  If you were making an omelet or a crepe.  Which you're not.  But still, like that.  Cook it about 3 minutes on that side, then gently flip it over with a spatula, praying all the while it does not fall to absolute pieces like my first three did.  After you'e flipped it, spoon some of the meat/sprout/onion mixture over half of the pancake - think omelet again - and wait 2-3 minutes for the bottom side to cook.  Fold it over and serve it immediately.

These were simple to make - after I got the whole frying/folding/flipping deal down, and they were yummy.  This recipe made 6 pancakes, but it would be easy to double it for more.

This is probably the second-best thing I've ever gotten from my mother-in-law :-)

A picture's worth a thousand words. Lucky for you, I have both. Part one of a two part series.

I hate blank walls.

My obsessive personality is such that I see a blank spot an a wall as a challenge.  I HAVE to find the perfect thing to fill the emptiness.  I have been this way for as long as I remember.

I also subscribe to the thought that the things you surround yourself with are a reflection of who you are, your personality, and what's happening in your life.

Here is a timeline of what my artwork has said about me over the years.

Pre-1992: During my elementary and high school years, my tastes ran toward posters of cute kittens, calendars of Chippendales dancers, and framed pictures of teddy bears wearing lace.

What that says about me:  Oh, come on.  You were 16 once, too.  What did you expect?  

1993: RJ and I got married for the first time and were gifted with these from his Mother:

They have hung on our bedroom wall ever since at least during the times we had a bedroom that was, you know, together.  At some point along the way, I learned the shiny parts were possibly made from snail shells, which freaked me out a little.  Still, they are quite lovely.

What that says about me:  I'm terrified of RJ's Mother. Duh. 

1994-1995: We were living in a little ramshackle apartment over top a grocery store where cable was free, money was tight, and decorating the lovely feather-painted mauve walls was NOT a priority.  I don't remember much about what we had hanging up on the walls - except a gigantic poster of Elvis - at the time, but I do remember we spent all our wedding money on some particle-board bookcases instead of on this little start-up stock we were looking at... called Amazon.  Worst. Decision. Ever.

What that says about me: I have poor financial planning skills and my love for the King will never change.


1996-1998: This was the first of many "art-acquisition" phases.  We had moved to a slightly less crappy apartment, money was slightly less tight, and aside from the Elvis poster which still hangs in my house today and the snail-art, the walls were painfully bare.  We shopped around for things we could agree on, and discovered our love for Disney sericels - Mickey Mouse to be specific, with an occasional Fox & The Hound thrown in for good measure.  I mean, after all, they were LIMITED and therefore INVESTMENT pieces.

When we moved to our current home, these (and the million more like them) started out in zj's room and when he started to get opinions, moved to cj's room, where they will stay.  Forever.  Sorry, baby, we're out of rooms to move them to.

What that says about me:  I had more money than taste.  

During the same time frame, RJ and I both became interested in J.W. Waterhouse, specifically his mythological series.  I paid an exorbitant amount of money framing picture as a gift for RJ:

But that was ok, because I knew I would always get to enjoy it, too.  Now, fast forward a year to our break-up, during which I got custody of the cats and RJ got custody of the Waterhouse.  So I did what any crazy person would do.  I got my own, identical except for the slight variation in the frame.

Both of these pictures now hang on opposite walls in our library.

What that says about me:  I have no flippin' clue.  But RJ and I also ended up with matching lamps, matching silverware, and matching dishes, all purchased while we were divorced.  I like to file this little tidbit into the "Stuff I Can't Think About Too Much Or My Head Will Explode" category.


1999-2001: At this point, I was a young, single girl living on my own for the first time ever, and EXPRESSING myself became very important.  Aside from the 496 journals I spent hours drunkenly writing MEANINGFUL quotations in, my biggest takeaway from this time was my love of black and white photography.  Since I didn't have two pennies to rub together, I began to frame (in Dollar Store frames) random things I had ripped out of magazines.

What that says about me:  I'm resourceful.  Also, I overuse the word "MEANINGFUL."

One day while walking through some sort of flea market/antique store kind of place with my friend Natalie, I happened on a picture that struck me in a way a piece of art never had before.  It was a black & white photo (of course) of a woman sitting on the porch of a ramshackle house with laundry strung all around.  It was titled "Monday Morning."  I had never wanted any THING so badly in my life. Sadly, the price (maybe $75?) was way out of my price range, so after visiting it over and over during our time in the store, I walked away without it.

That year for Christmas I unwrapped my present from Natalie to find this:

Today it hangs in a spot in my house that I pass a million times a day, and I stop from time to time just to look at it.  It's still my very favorite piece of art.

What that says about me:  I don't make friends easily, but the ones I have are keepers.

2002-2003: I moved from my crappy little single -girl rental house to a slightly less crappy single-girl rental house in a different city.  I had just received a a big promotion with a small raise, I was footloose and fancy free, and I was starting a new chapter in my life or so I thought.  The overall mood for me at the time was "whimsical" and my decorating choices definitely reflected that.

What that says about me: I have the tastes of a 12 year old girl, and I'm comfortable with that.


Join me next time as I walk you through the past eight years in J artwork.  It's a tale fraught with danger, intrigue, love and loss.

Or at least with pictures of shit I have hanging on my walls.

Smells like home.

The other day, I was making spring rolls for our Christmas celebration with RJ's family.  There was much discussion in the J household about when to shower, whether to open the windows, what would need to be aired out, etc. etc. etc. because although those suckers taste great, they smell up the entire house while they're cooking.  Not in a BAD way, necessarily, just in a strong, Asian restaurant kind of way.  The smell lingers for days sometimes.  But they taste good, and they're totally worth it.

The smell of spring rolls cooking is one that RJ grew up with.

Me, not so much.  Different kinds of smells are more familiar to me.

For a whole bunch of technical, medical, proven reasons that I won't go into here, smell and memory have been closely linked.  True dat.

There are some smells that take me right back home.  Not home now, but the home of my childhood when things were simple and good and easy.  If only I could have known that then...

The smell of wood smoke is the first smell that takes me back.  That, and homemade biscuits and bacon, and cigarettes and tobacco hanging in the barn waiting to be stripped and bleach and laundry fresh off the line.  I can still smell the clover in the field and the new grass and the rotting leaves in the fall and the water in the creek near our house.

When I smell pigs in the summer, I think of home.  When I smell fresh cut trees and gasoline powered chainsaws, it takes me back.  Ditto cheap aftershave and a carful of kids on the way to church.

There are a million smells that trigger memories for me.

I wonder what my boys will think home smells like.  When they are all grown up and out on their own, what smells will take them back?  Probably baking rum cake, and Pledge floor cleaner, and pizza and popcorn on movie Sunday nights.  Probably homemade macaroni and cheese and CK Be, RJ's favorite cologne.  Probably linen scented candles, and Gain fabric softener, and chocolate chip cookies, just because.  And spring rolls.  Spring rolls will smell like home for them, too.

Sort of homemade Sweet & Sour Chicken. Because my kitchen is the best Asian restaurant in town.

We were going to have some friends over for dinner the other night, and I was feeling like Asian.  Not like AN ASIAN, that's RJ's domain, but like cooking and eating Asian food.  Whew.  I'm glad we cleared that all up.

Anyway, I was planning on making fried rice, Spring rolls, and Beef with Broccoli.  I know how to make all those things, and all those things taste good in my mouth.

A few nights before our planned dinner, I woke up in the middle of the night.  It had come to me, as if in a dream, that I suddenly remembered that one of our soon to visit dinner guests was allergic to broccoli.

Who the hell is allergic to broccoli?

Really?  Broccoli?

So, I moved on to Plan B.  I'm flexible that way.

What Asian food has not even a whiff or an essence of broccoli?

Sweet and Sour Chicken, of course.

I went to my favorite recipe site, Allrecipes, and looked for Sweet & Sour Chicken recipes.

Apparently, everyone else in the world is either too health conscience or too lazy to use breaded chicken.  All I could find were stir-fry like deals, and while those probably would help my arteries (and the size of my a$$), they would not taste as good.

So I made up my own recipe.

It's sort of like homemade, except for the part where I bought pre-prepared sauce.

It is the best Sweet & Sour Chicken I've ever eaten.



WHAT YOU NEED:

For the sauce:

1 medium sized yellow onion, cut into largeish pieces
1 green pepper, cut into largeish pieces - it's a theme, you see
1 small can of pineapple chunks.  Don't drain it.  If you buy the expensive name brand kind, they will be called TIDBITS.
2 jars of pre-prepared sweet and sour sauce.  It's in the Asian food aisle.  I got one jar of Kikkoman and one jar of La Choy because the colors were both wrong.  If you mix them together, they look better.  I promise.  I cannot make this stuff up.

For the chicken:

1 lb. chicken breast, cut into bite-sized chunks
1 cup plus 2 tablespoons flour.  It can be all-purpose or self-rising.  I don't really care, and it won't really matter.
1 egg
1/2 cup of milk, give or take
Salt and pepper
Oil for frying


WHAT YOU DO:

Put the chopped chicken bits into a gallon ziplock bag with the 2 tablespoons of flour and some salt and pepper.  Squish it all around until the chicken is coated, and then put it in your fridge for a while.  At least an hour.  DO NOT SKIP THIS STEP.  I know what you're thinking.  It won't matter if you put it in the fridge, right?  It. Will. Matter.

Chop the onion and pepper, and put them into a small saucepan.  Dump in the pineapple, juice and all, and add both jars of sweet and sour sauce.  Simmer covered on really low heat for a while, the longer the better.  Somewhere between a half hour and an hour seemed to be enough, but longer than that works, too.  Just stir it every few minutes so it doesn't stick.

In a small bowl, mix the cup of flour with the egg and the milk.  You're going for the consistency of pancake batter here.  As a matter of fact, you could totally turn on the griddle and fry up a batch of pancakes out of this.  But then there won't be any left for your chicken, and you'll be sad.

Preheat 1/2 inch of oil in a big skillet.

Dip the flour/salt/pepper coated chicken pieces in the batter one at a time, and drop them into the hot oil one at a time.  If you try to do a bunch at once it will turn into a big mutant chicken ball, and nobody wants that.  Cook for 2-3 minutes on each side until it's toasty brown.

When the chicken's all done, put it on a big platter and pour the sauce over top of it.  Serve it to your friends for dinner.

They will like it.

The one where the Vietnamese nail lady tried to steal my husband.

Until yesterday, I was a 36 year old woman who had never had a professional manicure or pedicure.

True story.

You can weep if you want to.

Ok, now that we've had a moment to morn my lost opportunities at shininess, I can tell you that the situation has been rectified.

See, I've always been of the practical sort, and it always seemed silly to spend money on a manicure that I would ruin in 2.5 seconds flat at work.  And as for pedicures, well, nobody ever even saw my feet, so why bother?  Really, just a waste of money, right?

However, since I quit my job a few months ago, I've developed a fascination for girly things.  RJ looked at me the other day and out of the blue said, "You really are a girl, aren't you?"  Strangely enough, he meant it AND I took it as a compliment.

Anyway, the other day we were walking around the mall looking for some new running shoes for RJ.  Kids were at the sitters, we had just enjoyed a relaxing three margarita lunch, and we had nowhere specific to be for hours.

We walked by a nail salon in the mall - you know the one, every mall has it - and RJ said to me "Hey, wanna get a manicure?"

"I will if you will."  I was still drunk enough feeling rather adventurous that day.

So in we go.

RJ marches up to the counter, ignores the sign-in sheet, and announces, "We're here for manicures and pedicures."

The lovely Vietnamese matriarch type says, "For her?" and gestures toward me.

"No, for both of us."

At this point, a small, unassuming man whom we later determined to be the owner stepped in.  "We can do that," he said, with a sharp look at the other lady, who was clearly trying to cut into his profits.   Ok, so apparently this wasn't a place that was used to giving manicures to men.  Whatever.

After being directed to go pick out our polish - I chose a lovely shade or dark red, by the way - we sat down on the pedicure chairs.  There were two chairs ready, one staffed by a young Vietnamese woman, and the other by the gentleman we had encountered at the counter.  I naturally gravitated toward the young woman, and left RJ to sit down with the man as his pedicurist.  Which immediately earned me the stink eye from the young lady.

Immediately a flurry of talking began.  It was mostly one sided and coming from the young lady, but the gentleman would occasionally nod or make an agreeing type noise.  Throughout the entire conversation, she continued to glance at RJ every minute or two, then look away quickly.

Finally the man spoke in English to RJ.  "She say you look familiar somehow.  Where you from?"

RJ told the man he was from the area now, had lived all over the world, and his dad is American and his Mom is Vietnamese.

Matriarch lady had also been listening to the conversation, and immediately came over to join in, abandoning her customer with 4 of 10 nails painted.

"That why you look so familiar.  You look like the men from my country, but much taller and much more handsome."  A giggle from the young lady who is now vigorously scrubbing the second layer of skin from the bottom of my left foot with something that looked like a cheese grater.  Matriarch gestured to the young lady.  "She think you very handsome."  Then she turns to me.  "You his wife?"  I nodded.  "You do not need to let him leave house without you, understand?  He VERY handsome."

Was that a threat or a compliment?

"Uh, thank you?"

More rapid-fire Vietnamese from the young lady, punctuated with glances at RJ.

Matriarch translated.  "Do not worry, though.  She (gesturing toward the young lady) very happy with her husband."

Oh good.

I was totally worried that I would enter the Vietnamese nail salon WITH a husband, and walk out without one.

Happens to me all the time.

Naming kids is hard, and right now I have about a 50% success rate. Poor kid.

Ok, let me start with a bit of a disclaimer here.

When I started this blog, I never set out to keep our names a secret.  Using the initials was just a THING, you know, like all the cool kids were doing.  I mean, hell, if you're reading this, you know my address, and if you want to do my harm via the internet, you are probably smarter than my whole "let's just use initials so as to remain incognito" bit.

So anyway, back to me.

Before zj was born, RJ and I did everything right.  We read all the baby books, bought half a dozen books on how to name your kid, debated names for hours, even days.  There were, however, a couple of sticking points that were hard for me to get past.

According to RJ, NO MATTER WHAT,  PUNISHABLE BY DEATH, FOREVER AND EVER AMEN, the firstborn son of the firstborn son was ALWAYS named Robert.  It wasn't up for discussion. At all.  The boy would be named Robert, and it would be good.

Whatever.  I'm sneaky.  manipulative. persuasive when I need to be, and I convinced him that we could name the kid Robert and call him by his middle name.  That way, we were technically in the right and not in danger of being beheaded by the Robert-gods and we got to call the kid whatever we wanted.  That was probably mistake number one.

Mistake number two, which I still feel like was great in spirit if not necessarily in execution, was the decision to pick a second middle name of Vietnamese origin.

Of course, the major problem with that is that neither one of us speak Vietnamese.

So we did what all terrified good little Vietnamese children do, and we asked RJ's mother for suggestions.  She came up with a list.  Most of the names on the list were longish and hard to pronounce.  They would also be hard for this redneck white girl to remember, 'cause none of then rhymed with Earl, or was followed by Joe.  But one name on the list seemed doable.  An_Loc.  According to RJ's mom, this was the name of the city in which she was born.  How wonderful, right?

As I was in the hospital filling out the birth certificate request before ZJ was even born, I had a terrible feeling about the whole thing.  We were going to name this sweet little baby a really long name, some of it in another language, AND we were going to call him by one of his two middle names.  I panicked a bit, but plowed on through, and he became Robert Zachary An_Loc J.  But we were going to call him Zachary, which at about day three got shortened to Zackie and has stuck ever since.

Within weeks of his birth during an impromptu visit from my mother-in-law, as she was dispairing cooing over his round blue eyes, she mentioned again how pleased she was that we had chosen a Vietnamese name for him.  I was so proud.  I had FINALLY done something to please her.  Finally.  Finally.  Then she mentioned sort of offhandedly "An_Loc first Vietnamese city to be bombed and destroyed by Americans, you know."

No, sadly, I didn't know that.

Epic. Fail.

When I was pregnant with cj, the discussion went something like this.

Me: "I think we should name him Cooper."  Cooper was RJ's Grandma's maiden name and also the name of a really hot doctor guy from Private Practice.  "You can pick the middle name."
RJ: "I like Lee" which is RJ's Dad's middle name.
Me: Done.

And so Cooper Lee J came into the world, and his name was simple and pronounceable and the right length and good.  He's never been thought of or called anything else.  And I suspect he never will be.

But I still worry about zj and his name.  He's going to have to spend THE REST OF HIS LIFE explaining it to people.  "No, I don't go by Robert.  I go by Zachary." "Yes, I have two middle names." "Yes, one of them is an unpronounceable Vietnamese word." "Yes, it's the name of a city." "Yes, I know it's the name of a city that signifies destruction to Vietnamese people everywhere."  You get the picture.

I've gotten as far as Googling "legal name change" but I'm afraid to face the wrath of the Robert-gods.  So I've decided to leave it up to him.  Maybe he'll grow into it.  Maybe he'll come to love it.  Or maybe he'll never forgive me for it.

I'll keep you posted.
 

Tightly bred.

My kids look just like me.

My sister's kids look just like her.

My brother's kid looks just like him.

And they all look like each other.

No matter who our spouses are, the white trash gene pool is strong.

Also in my family the following scenario occurred:  My Dad and his brother married my Mom and her sister.  So their kids are my double cousins.  And guess what?  THEIR kids look just like mine, too.

Before zj was born, I was on bedrest for a while, and during that time I became addicted to the show Jon & Kate Plus 8.  At that time she was not yet a skank ho evil bitch a celebrity, and I thought (and still do) that Jon looked an awful lot like RJ.  Good thing looks are only skin deep, huh?

So I was convinced that my kid was going to look like all the little Gosselin children.  In all their cute Asian-ness.  With their slightly slanted dark eyes, and olive skin and dark hair.  I was going to be the one who had different-looking kids.

I was sure of it.

After all, Asian features are usually quite dominant, right?

Wrong.

When zj was born, his hair was darkish, but his eyes were (and still are) round and bright blue.  CJ's eyes aren't blue, but they sure aren't brown either.  And they are quite round as well.

When RJ's mother saw zj for the first time, she said, and I quote: "Eyes so round.  So blue. Such shame." Then she made that tsk-tsking noise through her teeth to make sure I was well aware of her disapproval of me for making a baby that was so white.

I was aware, all right.

Whatever.

Anyway, I was discussing this phenomenon with someone at work one day.  Her brother's wife is Japanese, and their baby boy looks darn well like he should, slanted eyes and all.   Oh, and as an aside, she also raises horses in her spare time.

I mentioned to her that I thought Asian characteristics were usually dominant.

"Well, that's true." she said.  "Maybe your gene pool is tightly bred."

This was not a phrase I was familiar with.

"Tightly bred?"

"Oh.  You have dominant traits." She laughed, slightly embarrassed.

"But what does 'tightly bred' really mean?"  I was curious.

"Well, it means that there is a lot of the same family characteristics that get passed on and the dominant traits...  insert very good and very technical explanation here."


I finally got it.

"Oh, what you're trying to say, quite nicely, is that my traits are dominant because my family tree doesn't branch so much?"

Yeah, I got it all right.

Asian style beef with broccoli. Because we're Asian, you know.

I have not always enjoyed Asian food.

This quickly became a problem in my relationship with RJ, because, oh wait, he's half Vietnamese.

So I learned.

I learned

how to make spring rolls, which are delightful, and I learned how to make Pho, which is hard and smells weird and which I won't eat because of the weird smelling part, and I learned how to eat out at Asian restaurants without embarrassing either one of us.

And over time I developed a fondness for a few things.

Like Beef with Broccoli.

Oh, and I'm not completely Asian-uninformed. I do realize that this particular dish is not of Vietname

se origin, and that it is really some Americanized thing that is served in Chinese restaurants for the white people to enjoy, but so what? It tastes good in my mouth.

WHAT YOU NEED:

2 Tablespoons flour

2 cups (give or take) of beef broth

2 teaspoons of white sugar

2 Tablespoons of soy sauce

a tiny tiny bit of fresh ginger root (like about the size of a penny)

1-2 cloves garlic, peeled

1 pound sliced steak - I use the really thin breakfast steaks, or flank steak. The thinner you can slice it, the better it will be.

1 large head of broccoli, chopped into bite sized pieces

some chopped mushrooms (optional)

Don't you just love it when a recipe tells you something is optional, like everything else HAS to be there, but that one thing really doesn't? Hello?!? Recipe?!? I don't really even have to make you AT ALL. So there. You are completely optional to me...

Oil (vegetable, olive, canola, whatever)

WHAT YOU DO:

Put the first six ingredients into a blender or food processor and blend it all up. If you have a smallish food processor like I do, you might have to leave half of the broth out of the mixture until after blending. Just put it in later. I won't really care.

In a large skillet or wok, heat a bit of oil - maybe a tablespoon of it. After the oil is heated, toss in the steak, mushrooms and broccoli, and toss it around on high heat until the meat isn't pink any more.

Add in the sauce and reduce the heat to medium. The sauce will start to thicken. I like mine well done and kinda mushy, so I cook it for about 10-12 minutes, but if you prefer your vegetables to still look like their original form, 5 minutes or so will do ya.

Serve it over white rice.

Or brown rice.

Totally OPTIONAL.

Daddy wins again.

RJ and I both work retail-type jobs with retail-type hours.  That means that on the third Thursday of every month that has an "i"  in it and if there's a full moon, we get a day off together.

Today was not one of those days.

Today, I went to work and left RJ to play video games and surf the internet take care of the kids and such.

And for the 11,000th time in a row, he has managed to trump me and become the favored parent.

Because it just so HAPPENED that I had some leftover rice in the fridge, and it just so HAPPENED that zj loves fried rice, and it just so HAPPENED that RJ decided that today was the day he would learn to make fried rice.

I'm not even going to say anything snarky about how this is obviously lunch and zj is obviously still wearing his pajamas.  I can show considerable restraint when it's necessary.  

Zj said it was as good as mine, but not quite as good as Grandma J's.

I guess I can live with that.

Authentic Vietnamese Spring Rolls. Made from authentic Vietnamese stuff.

For those of you who know me and my family, you may have heard that RJ's mother is Vietnamese.  This means, of course, that she makes delicious Vietnamese food.  Several years ago, at RJ's request, I spent the day with her to learn how to make spring rolls, and it was the second most stressful day of my life, second only to my faux-Vietnamese wedding, which I still have a difficult time talking about.  But anyway, the end result was that I now know how to make these delightful things.  Of course, if she ever finds out that I posted her secret family recipe on the internet for the entire world to see, the Vietnamese mafia will be waiting to roll me in a parking garage, but live dangerously, I always say.

First, make sure your children are occupied.  This whole process takes several hours.

WHAT YOU NEED:

3-4 large carrots, peeled

3 cups bean sprouts

1 bunch green onions

1 cup bean threads (also known as rice noodles), soaked in warm water for 15 minutes and drained

1/2 cup dried black mushroomssoaked in warm water for 15 minutes and drained

2 lbs. ground pork or chicken (pork is usually much cheaper, and honestly, it tastes about the same)

2 egg yolks

1 tsp. salt

1/2 tsp. pepper

1 heaping tsp. sugar

1 tsp. garlic powder

1 tsp. Ac'cent

50 spring roll wrappers

vegetable oil

(Note:  The spices are approximate.  After I have mixed everything, I take out a tablespoon of the mixture and cook it in a skillet like a bitty baby burger.  That way I can check and add to before I make 50 freakin' spring rolls that may need more salt.  Trust me, it's a good idea.)

WHAT YOU DO:

Chop the carrots, bean sprouts, green onions, noodles, and mushrooms in a food processor.  If you do not have a food processor, use a blender.  If you do not have a blender. get one.  When you're finished with all the chopping, it will look something like this:

Add in the meat, spices, and one egg yolk.  Now you've got this:

Next, take the other egg yolk, beat it with a fork and mix it with a little water.  This is what you'll use to seal the spring rolls.  

Lay a spring roll wrapper out flat (smooth side out), and put a heaping tablespoon full of the mixture on it.  Shape the filling like this: (I highly recommend you remove your engagement ring first.  Ask me how I know this.)

The rolling process looks like this:

At this point, dab your fingers in the egg yolk/water mixture and smear it around the corner of the wrapper.  Use this to seal it.

Repeat 49 times.  This is a good time to listen to music, drink beer, or drink beer.

The result:

Heat your oil in the biggest, deepest pot you've got.  Your oil should be at least 2-3 inches deep, and you should heat it over medium heat.  When you see the oil start moving around a bit, drop in some spring rolls.  I usually cook 6-8 at a time.  When you drop them in the oil, make sure the side sealed with the egg is DOWN.  This ensures that they will not come apart as they are cooking.  Cook for approximately 5-6 minutes per batch.  Drain on paper towels.

Note:  your house is gonna smell like China One Buffet King, and it will smell like that for days.  This stuff gets all up in your pores.  I prefer to cook these in the summer when I can open the windows, but we have to eat in the winter time, too.  Just be prepared, and shower AFTER, not BEFORE, making these.

The result:

Delightful.

Tonight, I am serving these with Vietnamese Pho Ga.  I did not get this recipe from my mother-in-law.  My constitution was too weak.  Instead, I got this recipe from Nathan Lyon of A Lyon in the Kitchen, who is super hot a really good cook.

Enjoy!

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