Crockpot Beef Stew

Rabbit Rabbit!

My maternal grandfather, Papa, has always been an inspiration to me; my earliest memories of him are in the kitchen, tasting whatever he was cooking. There is no meal in the world more delectable than Papa's broccoli-rabe, beef stew and his own invention, potato pie. My offhanded, handful of  this, handful of that cooking style is a direct result of watching him throw whatever is on hand into a pot and creating something spectacular.

My quest into graduate school is also inspired by him. When I was little I was slightly awed by him and how he can talk about any subject with authority. He tells the most incredible stories about his childhood, time in the Navy, career as a police officer and everything in between. When I was in college and studying the court system he'd lend be books on Justice Oliver Wendell Holmes and landmark Supreme Court decisions. His passion for learning and desire for me to get the best education possible is one of the main reasons I went to grad school.

Consider this improvised beef stew recipe as an ode to Papa and a learning experience!

Crockpot Beef Stew
1 pound of cubed beef stew meat (or more if desired)
4 large potatoes
4 cloves garlic, chopped or pressed
1 tbs paprika (I don't have it on hand and usually substitute with taco seasoning)
2 tbs soy sauce (or Worcestershire)
1 onion, chopped
1 1/2 cups beef broth (or whatever, bullion and water works, too)
1 cup wine (red or white, you pick)
2 carrots, cut into sticks (or chopped in a food processor to save you time)
1/3 cup brown sugar
1 cup homemade tomato sauce (or 4 chopped fresh tomatoes)
Grind to a Salt (have you noticed I love this stuff?)
Freshly ground black pepper
Some flour

Combine broth, wine, soy sauce, tomatoes, brown sugar, paprika, some seasoned salt and pepper in the slow cooker and set to high (4-6 hours cook time) or low (8-10 hours cook time) depending on when you want to eat.

Wash, peel and chop potatoes, carrots, onion and garlic. Throw them into the broth.

Take your stew meat and put it into a zip-lock bag. Sprinkle some flour over it and salt and pepper it a bit. Close the bag and give it a good shake to coat the meat (or, in the words of Weasel, "Shake it like a Polaroid picture!"). Throw this in the fridge for a few minutes while you drag out a frying pan and add just enough olive oil to coat the bottom on the pan and let the flame heat it up on high. Toss in the now coated meat and saute until nice and brown. It doesn't have to be cooked all the way, because  you will now throw it into the slow cooker with all the rest to continue cooked. Make sure the pot is covered, and walk away (cocktails, anyone?).

Enjoy!

Note: The measurements in this recipe are arbitrary. I usually just pour, sprinkle, toss and add according to my whim, what I have in the fridge, and what kind of flavor I am looking for. The beauty of this method? I have a base recipe I can work with, and I also have the freedom to experiment!

Project Hera: On Hold

Darn, and just when I was really getting into it, too! I'm sorry to say that Project Hera has been postponed for at least a few weeks, but at least with good cause.

It turns out that Weasel needed the book more than I do. As we pack her and her spinning wheel off to college, she's really worried that she won't make friends, won't fit in, isn't attractive... all fears I can debunk in about half a second, but let's face it: hearing it and believing it are totally separate things.

As much as I want to just sit Weasel down and tell her that in college there are no popular kids, and the people who were losers in high school meet all the other losers from high school and suddenly no one is a loser anymore and you have friends who know and love you. Hey, I met Super Boy the first day of college, so anything is possible!

But Weasel needs to learn all of this for herself. And I want her to feel as confident and self-assured as possible, so my copy of Seven Days to Sex Appeal is now (temporarily) in her hands. What does she hope to gain from it? Well, that's her business, but I get the feeling that, like me sadly, she just needs a boost in her assertiveness, self-confidence and just become more aware of herself in general.

So go forth and learn Weasel, and who knows? Maybe you can teach me a thing or two!

Don't mess with my magic...

It's hard to believe but it's already been one month since Super Boy and I hopped on a plane and went to Disney. Everyone one who went, from (the now slightly more likable) Gavone to my sisters Lady Diva and Weasel, from my mom and dad to my cousin, Opossum, and Aunt Squeak, everyone still raves about how much fun it was, how incredible the adventures, and how soon we must return.

In fact, it was a frequent topic of discussion this weekend when we were all reassembled at my parents home for a family weekend celebrating Weasel's graduation. And in between looking at pictures (again and again) and reliving our glory days in the sun, we also had some rather philosophical discussions on propriety, manners, and what is appropriate when in public.

The conversation centered on the final day we spent in Disney, spent mostly in the Magic Kingdom. It was the appointed "Gay Day" at the park; LGBTQ individuals, family and groups  had spent the week in the surrounding area outside the park and help events in Disney and elsewhere, a sort of meet and greet vacation. That day it was a trip to the Magic Kingdom they planned, and thousands of people in red shirts (the color of the day, I assume, there's no other explanation) poured off the monorail and into the park.

Other than the increased crowd, it usually wouldn't have bothered my family in the least. When you live in a family like mine, you tend to have a very relaxed "live and let live" mentality about these kinds of things. It would even be worth mentioning if it hadn't been for the shirts.

Those red shirts. Some of them have really cute saying on them, like "I believe in fairies!" But others were, if not offensive, then at least incredibly inappropriate in a children and family friendly environment. Some said things like "Fag" and "Hag," which would be difficult to explain to a child, but others were outright and blatantly sexual, like "Single: form line in rear" and "Big Bear Boy" (not explaining that one, look it up yourself).

 Here's the issue: Your business is your business, but when you are out in public, especially at a place like Disney, which is specifically designed for children and families, you need to keep in mind what's appropriate for the situation. Night club? Wear the leather chaps. Disney? Stick to the glittery fairy wings and magic wands.

My biggest hang up about all this? I wish I had wings like that...

An Esty Review!

Spring is always a busy time of year in my family, with Mother's Day, my sister Weasel's birthday, my birthday and Father's day all falling within weeks of each other. And, of course, I end up buying many presents, mostly online as I am a graduate student short on time and money.

This does not mean, however, that I cut corners of gift giving! I have found Esty, the handmade and vintage community offering all kinds of fantastic goods and supplies imaginable. With a wide range of prices and an unlimited selection of beautiful things, picking out gifts has become a dangerous task: I often buy more for myself and others than I originally intend.

My first Esty purchase was from Little Bird Design UK, a fantastic Edinburgh based Esty shop that specializes in beautiful paper goods. These pictures are just a small glimpse of journal I gave my mother on Mother's Day and the photos hardly do it justice.

The variety of journals at Little Bird Design UK is astonishing. In all kinds of patterns and prints, from sedate to extravagant, and in all kinds of textures and styles. The attention to detail, from paper selection of the fine hand stitching on the binding, is the mark of a true artist.

There is even, I kid you not, a journal shaped like a cupcake. Heavenly!

 For anyone searching for a unique and truly personal gift, I highly recommend the products of Little Bird Design UK.

In fact, forget about gifts... once you see these works of art you'll want one for yourself!

See for yourself here, the Esty home of these delights!

Love is in the Air

This week Super Boy and I will be together three years. And in a little more than two, we'll be getting married. I've done a bit more wedding research this weekend and I've come to the conclusion that weddings, like any family function, are political drama fests disguised as parties. Who gets to be a bridesmaid? Do I have to have Lady Diva (middle sister)? Do I have to invite Gavone (Diva's obnoxious boyfriend)? Can my cousins be his groomsmen? Can I put all the people I don't like at a table in the back?I know I'm going to have to give in a lot to keep the peace, and sometimes I'll have to grin and bear it when I'd really rather be screaming.

On the bright side, my mom and Weasel (youngest sister) are both very involved in the planning. So much so that I sometimes get phone calls from them telling me what they have decided my wedding will be like. So far velour tracksuits are the worst suggestion (I hope they were kidding) and a two week honeymoon to Disney World the best (although it looks my entire family will be joining Super Boy and I...).

What have I learned in the end? It's going to be a busy two years, and patience will be a virtue I must nurture. I'm sure I'll laugh about this in years to come...

PS- I designed the image above as a potential "wedding logo" for Super Boy and I. It was the first time I've used photoshop in years and I really am just proud on myself! Consider it this week's Moment of Joy!

Here comes the bitch…

So Super Boy and I spent last night at a family wedding; my cousin (who is practically a brother, really) married a very, very sweet girl in an outdoor ceremony followed by an incredibly fun reception. The music was phenomenal, the food was to die for, and all of my family turned out for the party. It was a wonderful night celebrating two wonderful people.

Not everyone at the wedding, however, was well behaved.
I have not spoken very much about my immediate family yet, but I have two sisters, both younger. We are all 2 ½ years apart, and while my youngest sister, Weasel, and I get along usual, the middle sister Lady Diva and I do not. Diva is evil. Yes, I know, all sisters fight, but this goes beyond that. Diva has lied to my parents about me to cause trouble, spread rumors about me, and once even tried to punch me in the face in the middle of a church. On Easter Sunday. We have hated each other from birth, and honestly, things aren't likely to change (more on our complicated relationship to come).
Now Lady Diva and her long time boyfriend, the obnoxious Gavone (again, a story for another time), were at the wedding of course. Now typically these two split off and do their own things at family gatherings, but since it was a wedding I was forced to endure their company most of the evening. To make matters worse, Diva didn't appreciate being out of the limelight. Not wanting to be merely a spectator at this event, she pulled a major coupé right under our parents' noses and tried to upstage the bride.
Yes. Lady Diva threw a fit in the middle of the wedding. First, she bought a white dress. True, it has a green sash and delicate flower pattern on it, but the rest was white as snow. And, to add insult to injury, Diva had a tiara perches atop her updo. A golden, sparkly tiara of all things. If her appearance wasn't enough, she actually walked out of the ceremony just as the bride was coming down the aisle, complaining of feeling "really quite faint." It was a hot day, but nearly hot enough to disrupt the wedding for a fainting spell.
Luckily, I don't think the bride noticed; it was her special day, and it makes me fume to think of Lady Diva and her petty tantrums. But you have to wonder what this kind of behavior says about my family and about wedding etiquette today in general. Wearing white to a wedding is still considered a faux pas, and rightly so. But many other behaviors, such as bringing a guest uninvited or wearing electric pink mini dresses, are becoming if not accepted then certainly less frowned upon. Personally, I think Emily Post had the right idea. A wedding is a special celebration centering on two people; their guests have no right to draw away that focus. When in doubt, it is best to err on the side of tradition and opt not to wear the gold sequins.
As for my family, it hints at the tensions and dysfunction underneath the surface. For my parents to let Diva's behavior go without comment is disappointing. At 20 years old, you'd think they put a little more pressure on her to grow up and act like a decent human being. Even Weasel, who has an admitted flair for drama and is the baby of the family, acted with more maturity and grace. If this is how my family acts at the happiest of occasions, it makes you wonder what the bad times look like.
And just think, I get to be in the center of all this madness in a few years.
Dum dum da dum…