Long Overdue: A Recipe for a Rainy Day

We just got back from Northern California. Well, no, we didn't just get back. We got back weeks ago, but life seemed to take over and my silly little mom-blog took a back-burner. But, now, I want to be back. I want to be back better than ever. So, I am opening with the above pictured Pork Ragu that I made for some friends while crashing in lovely Noe Valley. It's a version of Chris Cosentino's ragu of Incanto, my favorite Italian restaurant in San Francisco.

It's not particularly summery, but it's been so god-damned rainy, why not? Plus, it's cheap. Take your time both cooking and eating it. It's delish. I recommend serving over homemade pappardelle and topping with finely grated Grano Padano.

Pork Ragu

2 pounds ground pork shoulder
1/2 pound pancetta, finely chopped
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
3 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil, plus more to drizzle
1 medium yellow onion, finely chopped
2 cloves garlic, cut into slivers
2 celery stalks, finely chopped
2 heads fennel, finely chopped
1 large carrot, finely chopped
1 teaspoon fresh thyme, chopped
2 tablespoons tomato paste
1 cup red wine, like Sangiovese
1 (28-ounce) can peeled whole San Marzano tomatoes and their juices
2 bay leaves
1 tablespoon roughly chopped parsley
1 teaspoon fresh oregano, finely chopped
Ravioli or rigatoni, cooked to al dente

Grated Parmesan cheese.

1. Season the meats all over with salt and pepper.
2. In a large saucepan heat the olive oil over medium heat. When hot, add the onion, garlic, celery, fennel, carrot, thyme and 2 large pinches of salt. Cook until soft, about 5 minutes. Stir in the tomato paste and cook for 3 minutes more. Add the ground meat and brown over medium heat, stirring occasionally, for about 20 minutes. Deglaze the pan with red wine and cook at a lively simmer to reduce the wine, about 5 minutes. Crush the tomatoes with your hands and add them and the bay leaves. Simmer for 2 hours. Season to taste with salt and black pepper.

An Ode to the Family Bed

When I was pregnant with Adela, I read "On Becoming Babywise" hungrily and with confidence. I was certain that the tenants its authors touted were the answers to all my baby-rearing queries. For those of you who haven't yet had the pleasure of becoming parents (or reading Babywise), the book is a bible for rigid, scheduled and non-attachment parenting (i.e. feed your baby on a strict 3-4 hour schedule, put your baby to sleep while she is awake, paying little mind to the screams, play with your baby for a certain number of minutes each day, etc. etc. etc.) It made so much sense to me when I was still pregnant. The things that resonated most with me were the ideas that babies need to learn to put themselves to sleep and that they feel anxiety when it's up to them to determine when they want to eat and sleep. At 7 months pregnant, I was on my way to becoming Babywise.

Then Adela was born and everything changed. I mean, it happened as early as our first days in the hospital when I could literally feel her need to be physically close to me. At one point, the militant Russian nurse who was our nighttime caretaker both nights yelled at me for sleeping in the hospital bed with Adela in my arms. I pretended not to be sleeping, so she would go away and leave me to it.

Adela's and my need to be near each other didn't diminish when we left hospital and when she was her tiniest, I would sleep on the couch with her on my chest (I have never slept better in all my life). Then, she got bigger and it became dangerous to sleep with just a loose hold on her so we moved to the bed. She would begin her nights in her bassinet, but then by her first feeding, I would bring her into the bed with me to nurse her back to sleep. We tried to be conventional. We really did. But as it turned out, the entire family slept better when we were all cuddled up together. With a 5AM wake-up call, my husband needs his rest and with an inherent crankiness, so do I!

Anyway, what I am really trying to get to here is that, at night, when I am in bed with my husband and my baby girl and I can hear the snores of my two giant Labrador Retrievers on the floor nearby, I feel completely whole-- like I have everything in the world anyone could ever want. In the six short months since Adela was born, I have learned one very important thing: life goes by very fast. With that in mind, I am proud to share the bed with the whole family. I know the authors of Babywise (and my own mother) would balk at this rationale, but I wouldn't trade these magical moments for any predictable schedule or routine.

I know now that I can't sustain this co-sleeping indefinitely (especially if I want to make another baby, which I do). I know it's just going to get harder to wean (us all) from it, but for right now (like tonight and tomorrow night and maybe a couple more), I am savoring this ever so primal expression of familial love.

"Double L" (aka Laura Larson, Laura Williams, and Whosiepie) did it again!

I can't help myself either. So, for all those who follow my blog and don't follow Laura's (www.whosiepie.com), here's another incredible photo she took of my daughter. She is for hire. Hire her.

The Whitneys: Unwitting Victims of the Montclair Pudding Attacker!

Okay, this is going to be a little gross for a minute, so bear with me.

On Sunday, both my husband and noticed a pile of, um, something shiny and brown in our driveway. With two large dogs, we came to the same immediate conclusion (no explanation necessary here). But upon further investigation, it appeared to be some sort of chocolate pile. At first, we thought, "ice cream"? Perhaps, but then it didn't have that characteristic melt as the day wore on and well, neither of us had had a rogue chocolate ice cream cone.

Eventually, thanks to the abundant, pollen-spewing trees that hover above our driveway, the pile was covered and concealed. I stopped obsessing over it. Forgot about it. But then on Monday, I noticed a group of happy squirrels hanging around it, lapping it up joyfully. It was weird. What was it? I had been too afraid to clean it up and now, the squirrels had done the job for me.

The strange chocolate pile was now just another greasy stain in our driveway, but its memory haunted me through Tuesday and Wednesday. But on Thursday, I got a break in the case as I was cruising our trusty local news source, Baristanet.com. There was a passing reference to the "Montclair Pudding Attacker," and I found my answer. Read here, for further unsatisfactory explanation of the deranged criminals: http://www.baristanet.com/2009/03/riding_in_cars_with_pudding.php

I don't know what would posses someone to throw perfectly good chocolate pudding at his neighbors, but what I do know is that I will no longer say, "those things just don't happen to the Whitneys."

GiGi: a Salad, a Meal, a Sexy Lady's Name!

Oh, it was so hot this weekend. The Whitneys didn't have an air conditioner and yet, the Whitneys had multiple dinner guests. The worst part, Mrs. Whitney developed a sweat disorder when she got pregnant and it hasn't subsided. The dilemma this weekend was, obviously, how to make a nice dinner for friends without sweating in it. Ewww... I know.

So, I put on my thinking cap and remembered my favorite salad from the Palm and subsequently, several other "steakhouse" style restaurants on the eastern end of a Long Island. I wish I knew the true origins of the GiGi Salad. If you know, please share in the comments section.

GiGi Salad for Four (with some leftovers for picking)

Ingredients:

2 lbs. 20-25 peeled and deviened Shrimp, marinated in garlic, olive oil, the juice of one lemon, and plenty of salt, pepper and Crazy Jane's salt.
1/2 lb. cleaned French Beans
3 medium Tomatoes, small diced (locally grown without slave labor)
1 large small diced sweet Red Onion
6 sliced crispy Bacon, chopped to just before a crumble.
2 ripe Avocados, small diced
1/2 c. cold Goat Cheese, crumbled (totally optional and not traditional. I just love goat cheese, so I put it in everything these days)
1 cup homemade Balsamic Vinaigrette
Butter Lettuce leaves to serve as the bed for the chopped salad


Technique:

First, find a charcoal grill in your backyard that you didn't know was there. Send your husband to the store to get charcoal and make him start the fire, watch the coals and yell at you when its time to put the shrimp on.

Grill the shrimp, being careful not to overcook. As soon as they are nicely curled into themselves and they are opaque all the way through, they are done. Take them off immediately and allow them to cool while you prepare the rest of the salad.

Combine all other ingredients, except the goat cheese and shrimp. Chop the shrimp into thirds, roughly and add to the salad. Then, at the last moment add the goat cheese, toss one last time and serve over a bed of lettuce, preferably a few leaves of butter lettuce for presentation, but any type you have on hand... or not, if you don't.

Wipe the sweat from you brow and serve to your grateful, hungry and too polite to complain about the heat, friends. Finally, send your husband out for ice cream.

Goodbye Dear, Sweet, Wonderful Monty.

Last night, I lost one of my dearest friends. He hadn't been the same goofy, curious boy for quite a long, long time. And though, it was his time to go, the loss hurts so deeply that I don't know if it will ever go away.

I have been trying to heed the advice I recently gave some friends, "remember the joy he brought in his life, not the sadness of his passing." In the dawn of this first day without Monty, it's hard to think of anything but how much I miss him and how much it stung to feel the life drift from his body. But I have so many wonderful memories of this most special dog and one that stands out as a testament to his profound sensitivity and empathy was when I was laid up with one broken ankle and one sprained one in the mountains of Montana about 6 years ago. He couldn't seem to understand why I had gone from the girl who took him running through the snow in the mornings, to the girl who was unable to walk to the bathroom on her own. He was so sad and it was all he could do to comfort me. He finally figured it out. He jumped up on the couch with me and laid his long, lean body between my legs and propped his funny, funny face on my shin. He laid there for what seemed like forever... days, weeks. He didn't want to be anywhere else. Even when his friend, my dog Otis, was barking to go for a run, Monty looked at him as if none of that mattered in light of the job he had to do. He was so sweet and so giving.

Perhaps, it was his giving nature that led him to me to end his struggle with the tumor that was pushing against his little brain. I believe that he came to me as a gift, in his final days, to both say goodbye and give me the opportunity to struggle with the choice to put him down and the actual putting down. Without Monty, the first time for me would have been with Otis, the closest friend I have. Monty didn't want that. He wanted me to know the feeling, so I would be better prepared. I am so grateful to him for that. And for everything he brought to my life over the last nine plus years.

I love you, Monty, and I always will. For the rest of my life, I will miss you.

Baby's First French Kiss!

It's finally happened: two of my most favorite people (one very small and the other covered with fur) have fallen in love.

It made me realize that I have successfully given Adela an important gift: the lifelong love of animals and specifically, dogs.

While there are many who would object to an infant rolling around on the floor with two giant Labradors, to me it's a thing of beauty and love-- a magical introduction to the purest and most unconditional form. I think that's a good thing for a baby to learn very early on. More than developmentally challenging flashcards that accelerate her ability to process meaningless information and more than irrelevant puzzles, loving a dog teaches her to value life and a soft, gentle touch.