In The Beginning

When TBHITW and I first met we were two broken people.


You see we had both been married before.


We had been married to people who were unsuited to us, people who did not love us the way we wanted to love or be loved.


And that broke us.


Because who we were, and from where we came from, marriage meant something. Marriage meant promises and commitment and love and respect and all the good things that being in a solid partnership can bring.


But we were married to the wrong people. People who didn't share the ideal.


Long before we met, we both ended our marriages. And it was sad. It was sad because divorce is the death of dreams. Of hopes. Of promises. Of the future that we all imagine when we imagine we are in love.


And then we met each other.


He courted me. And I courted him.


And over the course of two and a half years we came to trust each other. And love each other. And know each other. And respect each other. And we both thought, "hmmm... this is the way it is supposed to be". "This is what happiness and partnership looks like".


So we married.


The April before we got married (August 4th.) we went to Europe together. We spend two and half weeks traversing England and France. We visited London, riding the tube and walking the squares and eating and drinking in smoky pubs.


We crossed the channel from Portsmouth to Bayeux and biked the entire D-Day map. TBHITW was a history buff and we used Stephen Ambroses' book, "Citizen Soldier" as our map.


We slept in an 11th. century manor house.
We drank Calvados, the local apple brandy.
We drove to Mount St. Michel and watched the tide roar in at 60 miles an hour.
We rented an Alpha Romeo and with the top down, we drove to Caan and took the train to Paris.
The City of Lights.
We stayed on the Avenue des Champs-Élysées  and witnessed the finish to the Paris Marathon. 
We strolled under the Arc de Triumph. 
We went to the Eiffel Tower. And Notre Dame. And the Louvre.
We walked beside the canals. 
I spoke high school french. 
We ate wonderful food and drank cheap wine. Everyday we ate cheese, chocolate and bread. And because we were young we didn't gain a pound or worry about cholesterol.
People mistook us for honeymooners and we didn't correct them. 


When we got home we began planning our wedding. And our new home. 
I was moving from Pennsylvania to New Jersey where TBHITW already owned a home and a business. 


So it began. 


Our rehearsal dinner party was a picnic at a local suite hotel, with a pool. People swam in the warm summer evening. We BBQ'd and ate sushi. My sister's room was on the pool side so guests climbed in and out of her window to get to their own rooms or grab an extra drink. Other guests of the hotel, thinking it was a hotel happy hour, joined us and we let them. 


Family and friends came from all over the country to celebrate our wedding. Everyone said, "you look so happy" "I haven't seen you so happy in years" "Look at the two of you". 


We walked down the aisle together. 
No one had to give us to one other. 
We had already given ourselves to each other. 


For our "real" honeymoon we both decided that it wasn't fair to people (or to us) who had travelled so far to only get to spend a day or so together. 


So we rented a 10 bedroom beach house and invited anyone who wanted to come along with us. 


The beach house was not one of those new monolithic McMansions you so frequently see on the Jersey Shore. 


No, this house was old. It was clapboard. With porches that wrapped around its floors on every level. The kitchen had an enclosed screen porch that sat 18 for dinner.


It did not have air-conditioning, but had whirling ceiling fans in every room. Even the four bathrooms. 
It did not have a dishwasher because, really, if you are cooking for 18 people don't you think some of the 18 will help with the dishes. Over music and wine? Of course everyone pitches in.


Seventeen people came on our honeymoon and stayed the week. 


It was glorious. 


And I wouldn't go back and change a thing. 

Making Pierogies For My Dad

This post originally appeared in 2009 - my dad's operation was a success.

We still love periogies.

This is a picture of my mom and dad on their wedding day.

Everyone in my family gathers at my older brother's house on Easter. My brother supplies the ham. It is the best ham I have ever eaten. He buys it at an old Polish butcher in an even older Polish neighborhood. One of those neighborhoods that hardly exist anymore. He doesn't do anything fancy to the ham. No glaze, no pineapple. No studding it with cloves. But he does slice it thick and hot and piles it high on a big platter all pink and moist. Not too salty and never dry.

Everyone brings something to the Easter table. About a week or so before Easter Sunday we start making the phone calls, "what should I bring, what is mom bringing?" " What is everyone else bringing?" By the big day we have a table that is groaning under the weight of sweet potatoes and beans and eggs and cheese and bread and a dozen or so other dishes from our past and some from our present.

This year, I'm making Pierogies for my dad. My dad needs an operation. It's a biggy. It really doesn't matter so much what kind of operation it is. The important information is that it is a serious operation. He will be in the intensive care unit for a couple of days, then a regular hospital room for a couple of days.

I am worried about my dad.

That's why I'm making him pierogies. Pierogies are a dish from our past. They are so much a part of our past that we even have a Family Pierogie Story. Mom, if you're reading this forgive me if this isn't quite right - but this is how I remember the Family Pierogie Story.

One day when I was in kindergarten my mother decided she was going to make Pierogies for my dad. Maybe my dad was having a bad week, or maybe my mom was having a good week. This was before you could just go buy a box of Mrs. T's. Mom's stayed at home, JFK was the president and if you wanted Pierogies you had to make them yourself. It was probably a Friday because back then we didn't eat meat on Fridays and Pierogies don't have meat in them. They are also very filling so you can make a meal out of just good old pierogies. The problem was that my mom didn't know how to make pierogies - she not being Slovak. My dad remembered his mom making them, but she died when he was only 12 - so it was only a good memory, not a recipe. So my mom wants to do this nice thing for my dad but doesn't have a recipe. No problem. Back then you knew everyone's ethnic background so she called my kindergarten friend Bonnie K's mom (Arlene K.) and got the recipe. The recipe had come from Mrs. Arlene K's mom and probably from her mom before that. It was a FAMILY recipe. This was before blogs or foodnetwork.com or epicurius.com so you had to know someone to get a recipe. Or you read Good Housekeeping, but something tells me GH was not going on and on about pierogies.

Note: Pierogies - in case you do not know, are stuffed semi-circles of dough. They are NOT stuffed pasta. In the sixties we did not have pasta, we had spagetti noodles which are impossible to stuff no matter how good a cook you are. We had dough. Slovak's have dough. Got that? I did not make up this rule - I was only 5 years old at the time - it's just the way it was.

Now making Pierogies is no simple task, but my mom didn't know that because she didn't have anyone to teach her how and she never saw anyone make them. But my mom's pretty smart and she started to making them, figuring them out as she went along. Now, you have to picture this. There are alot of littles in my family. I was 5 - which makes my sister 8, my brother 6 1/2, my younger brother 3 and my younger sister either newborn or my mom 9 months pregnant. (there's another sister but she was not born yet at the time of the great Family Pierogie Story) It could not have been easy making those pierogies with all us littles running around.

So my mom is making the dough, rolling it out, cutting it into rounds, stuffing those little rounds with potatoes and cheese and some with buttery fried cabbage (cabbage is real big in Slovak pierogies).

So she's making those pierogies and she's putting them in a big yellow mixing bowl so she can boil them later for dinner. I still remember that bowl. It was one of those huge bowls that could hold mounds of stuff. I bet she had about a 100 pierogies in there. She was also probably humming a little while she was rolling and stuffing because my mom always hums a little when she is concentrating or doing something that makes her happy. I can just imagine how pleased she was with herself for making all those pierogies for my dad as a big surprise. It must have taken her all day and I just know she couldn't wait to show my dad when he got home from work.

Well, as the Family Pierogie Story goes, my dad gets home from work all hungry and my mom proudly shows him the big bowl full of pierogies. When she goes to take them out of the bowl to begin boiling them she discovers that you can't stack pierogies; what happens is they stick together to form the biggest pierogie in the world. Just one big lump of dough (not pasta) and potatoes and cheese and buttery fried cabbage.

I'm sure my mom cried that day. But she went on to learn from her mistake and she taught me how to make pierogies and lay them on wax paper lined cookie sheets until I'm ready to boil or saute or fry or freeze or whatever I'm doing to them.

A few days ago my daughter-in-law asked me if I'd teach her how to make pierogies so she can make them for my son. Hopefully she will one day teach my granddaughters. The tradition continues with a recipe that is probably over 100 years old. That makes me happy even though I'm still terribly worried about my dad.

I think I'll probably hum a little while I'm making these pierogies. Just like my mom did.

Pierogies: (old world)

4 cups flour

4 eggs - unbeaten

1 1/2 teaspoons salt

cold water

Make a well in the center of your flour. Crack eggs into the well. Add salt and some cold water (a little at a time) and knead until smooth. Keep the dough moist, not sticky. If it's too sticky add a little more flour. Roll out thin on a lightly floured board, cut in circles. Fill. Moisten edges and pinch closed. THIS IS THE IMPORTANT MORAL OF THE FAMILY PIEROGIE STORY:

Lay out on waxpaper lined cookie sheets until ready to cook (you can also freeze at this stage)

Cook in boiling water for approximatley 15 minutes (or until they float). Remove from boiling water and toss with melted butter.

My favorite filling:

Mashed Potatoes (you can make them yourself or cheat and buy store bought)

Lot's of shredded cheddar cheese - put enough cheese in the potatoes so you can TASTE the cheese.

My dad's favorite filling:

Fry shredded cabbage in butter. Salt and Pepper to taste. Let cool. Spoon on dough rounds. Fold and seal.

Here is an updated fresh take on an old world classic: (from Jamie Oliver's Cook with Jamie - he calls it Ravioli - but we KNOW it's really pierogie)

Pierogie with Pecorino, Potato and Mint:

Dough:

5 cups flour (use tipo 00 if you can get it, if not just use all purpose)

6 large eggs

Place the flour on a board or a bowl. Make a well in the center and crack the eggs into it. Beat the eggs with a fork until smooth. Using your fingers, work the flour into the egg. When everything is incorporated, knead until smooth and satiny. This will take a while, but you'll know when it's done because you'll have a big, smooth, satiny lump of dough instead of a rough and floury lump of dough.

You can also use your food processor to make the dough. Just put everything in, whiz it up until it looks like breadcrumbs, then dump it out and knead as above.

You can either roll it out at this point, or if you have one, use your pasta maker roller to roll out streams of dough.

Stuffing:

3 medium to large potatoes (about the size of your fist)

Salt and Pepper

7 tablespoons of butter plus 2 more

2 handfuls of grated pecorino cheese plus more for serving

1/4 nutmeg - grated

zest of 1 lemon

a bunch of fresh mint

Preheat oven to 400. Wash and prick your potatoes, roll in a little salt and bake until done, about 1 hour. Cool. Scoop potatoes out of their skins and put them in a bowl. Chop half your mint leaves. Add 7 T of butter, nutmeg, salt and pepper, cheese, lemon zest and mint to potatoes and mash with a potato masher.

Roll out your dough. Cut into rounds. Fill, then fold and seal. You already know to lay them out on wax paper, right?

Put on a pot of salted water. Bring to a boil and cook pierogies for 3 1/2 minutes. While the pierogies are cooking, melt the last 2 big tablespoons of butter in a saute pan. Add a little of the cooking water and simmer until you have a light sauce. Using a slotted spoon, transfer the pierogies to the saute pan. Turn to coat. Serve with extra pecorino and torn mint leaves.

And remember to hum a little while doing all this. It's part of the great Family Pierogie Story

Grand Littles and Pork Tenderloin and Applesauce

I've been absent for a few days.

I was on a mission.

My mission was to care for my two grand littles for two whole days while their mommy and daddy went to work.

Now I know from experience that a 3 year old and a 2 year old can be exhausting. But hard? Please, I am a woman of experience. I am a woman of years. I am a woman of reason. And I have managed to raise a few littles of my own while keeping plastic bags off heads and running with scissors to a minimum. As far as I know all of my littles have reached kidadulthood with fingers, toes and limbs intact.

Here are my two little darlings on our first morning together. They are having a lovely breakfast of orange juice, dippy eggs and sausages that I prepared for them. It is 6:00 am.

Is God even awake at 6:00 am? Never mind, the littles were hungry and I was up to the task of feeding them.

Later that day the little angels demonstrated their superior art skills for me.

Oh what a wonderful day. We went to the park, visited my parents and had a picnic lunch. A refreshing three hour nap later and we all began preparing dinner for mommy and daddy.

I ended the evening by meeting up with old friends for a cocktail. By the time I arrived back at the littles' house, everyone was tucked in bed and sound asleep.

Until 2:00 am. And 3:00 am. And 5:00 am.

And of course everyone was up by 6:00 am.

Apparently the peaceful ease of my first day "on the job" was a tactic littles use to lull their prey into a false sense of superiority.

The second day:

6:00 am - everyone is awake and in the kitchen.

6:30 am - Mommy and Daddy leave for work.

6:35 am - Little #1 informs me she must go potty.

6:40 am - Little #1 tells me she needs privacy in the bathroom and asks that little #2 be removed.

Little #2 does not want to leave the potty room. Little #1 screeches at a never before heard by human ears decibel rating that SHE NEEDS PRIVACY.

I turn my back for one minute and little#2 begins to cry. She is clutching her arm in pain. This is the conversation that ensues:

Me: Little #1 - did you hit your sister?

Little #1 - no, I bit her

Little #2 - wailing at top of HER lungs

Me: (picking up #2, and carrying out of bathroom) Don't you dare bite your sister!

As I stepped over the threshold of the bathroom I heard the most sickening sound of all. The door slammed and a soft click of the door lock followed. Little #1 had shut the door and locked us out.

Me: #1, you unlock this door this instant.

Silence

Me: #1, can you hear me?

Silence

Me: #1, this is Nani - you come out right now.

Silence

Me: #1, do you want me to call your daddy and have him come home?

Silence

By now I am frantically trying to remember if my daughter-in-law has any chemicals or toxins stored under the bathroom sink that #1 may have gotten in to. I am also looking for something, anything, to stick in the little hole in the doorknob to somehow unlock the door.

Me: #1, can you hear me? Little #2 has stopped crying and is watching me with amusement. It is apparent she has witnessed this little scene before.

7:00 am: #1 has been locked up for 20 minutes. Okay, no time to panic. I am an adult. I am experienced. I am Super Nani... THINK! I cannot call my son and DIL in a panic... can I call the fire department in a panic? Will the FD keep it confidential - I mean do my son and DIL have to know about this little incident?

I decide to try a little psychology (pun intended)

Me: #2, let's go play. Just leave #1 by herself, you and Nani will have so much fun. (said while pretending to walk away from bathroom door)

Silence.

I force myself to wait for a full 3 minutes all the while with my ear pressed to the door.

Me: #1 I've had enough. If you don't come out right now Nani will not take you to your dance lesson.

I hear a a very slight rustling, a turn of a lock and the door swings open.

Little#1: Okay, I'm ready.

Little#2: Hi #1 (giggling)

OMG.

The rest of day went fine but I will never underestimate the power of a little again. At 6:30 pm I head out the door for the long, peaceful drive home.

I slept like a log (not a little) last night.

And seriously, I can't wait until I can do it all over again!

A Cook's Notes: I'm still putting my house back together from the hardwood floor installation and the stair man is coming today to refinish the staircase. Tonight's dinner is a repeat of a previous post: Pork Tenderloin and Homemade Applesauce. Bon Appetite!

Nothing To Add...

This post is from my brother-in-law's blog, www.teamskelcy.wordpress.com.

I have nothing to add but tears for the pain this beautiful family is going through (and a great picture)

"Shane made it through the installment of his port with some discomfort and will start chemo on Wednesday morning 9:00a.m.  He actually smiled a few times and talked to  his sisters.  Grandma Waters and Grandpa and Grandma McVicar sat with a sleepy Shane for awhile.

  My house is divided tonight with me and the girls at home, and Dee and Shane at the hospital.  Not a good feeling for sure.  But even at these low points I feel connected with them.  My son will have his mother by his side tonight.  I can’t think of a more comforting feeling for Shane then that.  I miss them deeply.

  That unwelcomed stranger came out of the shadows today, breathing down my neck.   But knowing Dee is where she has to be and me home with the girls makes that stranger cringe.  Teamskelcy is together, even when we are apart.  We feel the team growing everyday.  The prayers, hugs, and smiles are bonding this cause together.  This might be hard, but togetherness will make it work. Tonight  two sweet angels sleep peacefully at home with their dad.  Another angel sleeps by his mother’s side feeling safe and loved.  But everyone is together in their dreams.  Sleep well tonight world.  The fight has just begun."

This is Shane and his sisters, Allyson (alley-cat) and Kaitlyn (katy-did) - the very handsome runner in the background is their dad, Mark #1556, in the dark blue shirt. He and Dee (and the kids) are quite the runners. Mark and Dee will be running in the NYC Marathon this fall. To see how you can help - go to their blog, www.teamskelcy.wordpress.com. The Best Husband In The World and I will have the pleasure and privilege of having everyone stay at our home for the big event! Go TeamSkelcy! 

My Dad - Always A First Defender

My dad just left for the hospital. His surgery should begin around 11:00 A.M. EST and last about 3 hours.

This is his National Guard unit's emblem. They are called The First Defenders. My dad has been active in the National Guard for over 50 years. Still is. These days he speaks at Guard functions, packs care packages for the men and women currently deployed in Iraq and Afganistan, tends to the Guard Museum and the saddest duty, attends military funerals.





My dad has always been a First Defender. Not only his country - to which he is extremely loyal and proud of, but of his family, his home, his name.


My dad taught each and every one of us (and there a lot of us) how to stand tall, be strong, loyal and proud.

Hugging him good luck (not goodbye) this morning was one of the toughest things I've had to do in a long time.


The best husband in the world keeps reminding me that he is a tough old bird.


So today I'll hold down the fort here at the homestead. Answer the phone, cook the meals, let his dog out (who hates me) ,wait for word from the hospital and like my dad taught me, be strong.

More later....

And the Tough Get Cooking

I decided that if I can't do anything about operations and tumors and cancer, I CAN make chocolate chip cookies. These are not the standard Toll House Cookie Recipe that we all grew up on. Nope, these are, New and Improved, HOT from my oven in New Jersey, and personally driven and hand delivered to Shane in Michigan by his Uncle Jim:

THE BEST CHOCOLATE CHIP COOKIES IN THE WORLD:

2 1/4 cups flour

1 tsp baking soda

1 tsp table salt

2 sticks unsalted butter, melted until slightly browned

1/2 cup granulated sugar

1 cup dark brown sugar

1 tsp vanilla

1 large egg

1 large egg yolk only

2 cups (12 oz) Ghirardelli or Hershey's semi-sweet chips

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees. Position the rack in the middle of the oven.

Stir sugars and vanilla into melted butter. Whisk or gently mix. Wait 3 minutes, mix again. Wait 3 minutes. Mix again.

Add egg and egg yolk. Mix gently until incorporated.

Stir together flour, salt and baking soda. Add to melted butter, sugar mixture. Stir or mix gently. Stir in chocolate chips.

Drop by tablespoonful onto parchment lined cookie sheet. Bake for 9 to 11 minutes. Cool slightly. Makes about 5 dozen cookies.

A Cook's Notes:

By browning and melting the butter you are accomplishing two things:

1. Adding more depth of flavor with the browned butter

2. Aiding in the melting of the sugars. This will keep the cookie chewier.

The egg yolk will also give your cookies more chewiness; rather than a cake like texture that the egg white would add.

The higher ratio of dark brown sugar to white adds even more depth of flavor and adds a caramel crispness to the outside of the cookie

Use Hershey or Ghirardelli chocolate - it is a better quality than Nestle.

Bake in batches - only one tray at a time. Yes, it's time consuming, but you will get a better, even baked cookie. Use two trays - one in the oven and one ready to go. Don't put batter on hot tray, allow cookie sheet to cool before reloading.

And finally, make these cookies for small boys (and girls) and not so small boys and girls with scary stuff in their lives.