Recipe: Chile Broccoli Pasta
Source: Easy Vegetarian (cookbook)
This was a fast and easy pasta blend that would be superb for a quick summer dinner.
2 cups dry penne or macaroni
1 medium head broccoli
1/4 C extra virgin olive oil
2 large garlic cloves, chopped
2 fresh red chiles, seeded and diced
8 cherry tomatoes
small handful of fresh basil or parsley to garnish
salt
* Cook the penne or other pasta in a large pan of salted boiling water for about 10 minutes, until tender but still firm to the bite. Remove from the heat, drain, rinse with cold water, and drain again. Set aside.
*Cut the broccoli into florets and cook in salted boiling water for 5 minutes. Drain, rinse with cold water, and drain again.
*Heat the olive oil in the pan that the pasta was cooked in. Add the garlic, chiles, and tomatoes. Cook over high heat for 1 minute.
*Return the broccoli to the pan with the oil and mix well. Cook for 2 minutes to heat through. Add the pasta and mix well again. Cook for 1 minute more.
*Remove the pasta from the heat. Turn into a large serving bowl, and serve garnished with basil or parsley.
We added mozzarella cheese, and it turned out really good. Wade took the leftovers to work and put the mozzarrella cheese on the pasta hot so it melted and he said that was excellent. Beware, though, the red chiles are still hot. I thought maybe they wouldn't be as hot as jalapenos and popped a piece in with a few seeds on it and it seared my tongue, lips and the corners of my mouth. I could still feel it the next morning.
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Friday, March 25, 2011
Looking Back
I wasn't completely honest in my last post. I did fail to mention that the main reason for my hiatus was NCAA basketball, but I was slightly embarrassed to admit it. In the last 29 years, I have cared little about NCAA basketball, but this year, I really got into it. So much so that I filled out a bracket for the tournament and kept close tabs on the games. I'm unhappy--yet somewhat relieved because it means that I can regain my old life back--to report that I could really care less now who wins the whole thing. But it was an incredible season to watch and I'm glad I tuned in. And I'm happy that I have a few months off before football season starts. Now on to what I want to say today...
Many of you probably know about my niece, H. Today is her 8th birthday. It's about 8 years more than she was expected to live and it's an incredible milestone.
I received a call from my mom at about 4 am the morning of March 25, 2003. She said that my sister-in-law had just had her baby. Both of my brothers' wives were expecting and I heard the name of the one that was due in July, not the one that was due in April. I figured that my mom had gotten the names mixed up and went to correct her.
No, she said. It really was the sister-in-law that was due in July. My brother and his wife were living about 300 miles south, away at college, and had gone into premature labor. They couldn't stop it and H. was born by emergency C-section at 23 weeks. For the uninitiated, a full term pregnancy is 40 weeks, so roughly just over half way through the pregnancy. Life Flight flew down from the University and picked up H., but left my sister-in-law, who was still recuperating, and my brother behind. They didn't have family nearby and my brother knew that my mom and I could meet H. at the University, so he opted to stay behind with his wife.
My mom and I drove to the University hospital and met the helicopter as it brought in little H.
Well, really, "little" is a bit of an overstatement. She weighed 1 lb 2 oz and was 11 inches long. Imagine the length of a dollar bill. Her eyes hadn't even opened yet, they were still fused shut. But she was perfectly formed. All her little (little, little, little) fingers and toes. Her little lips and perfect ears.
We stayed there all day, marveling at how something so little could have so much fight in her. It remains, still, as one of the most spirtual experiences I have ever witnessed.
Over the next few days, the news switched between dire and heartbreaking. There was little chance of survival and our only hope was to keep her alive until her parents could make the trek up to see her one last time. They made it up after two days and it seemed like that buoyed H. She fought her way back from the brink of death on more than one occassion. Many prayers were offered in her behalf and it was a very soul-searching time for those of us directly involved. I really did see the face of God in that little baby lying in the incubator.
After six months in the hospital, H. was sent home with little hope for a viable life. However, though the diligence of my brother and his wife and the spirit of tenancity that H. embodies, she is, today, a happy, healthy 8 year old. She is truly a daily inspiration and a true miracle.
Happy Birthday!
Many of you probably know about my niece, H. Today is her 8th birthday. It's about 8 years more than she was expected to live and it's an incredible milestone.
I received a call from my mom at about 4 am the morning of March 25, 2003. She said that my sister-in-law had just had her baby. Both of my brothers' wives were expecting and I heard the name of the one that was due in July, not the one that was due in April. I figured that my mom had gotten the names mixed up and went to correct her.
No, she said. It really was the sister-in-law that was due in July. My brother and his wife were living about 300 miles south, away at college, and had gone into premature labor. They couldn't stop it and H. was born by emergency C-section at 23 weeks. For the uninitiated, a full term pregnancy is 40 weeks, so roughly just over half way through the pregnancy. Life Flight flew down from the University and picked up H., but left my sister-in-law, who was still recuperating, and my brother behind. They didn't have family nearby and my brother knew that my mom and I could meet H. at the University, so he opted to stay behind with his wife.
My mom and I drove to the University hospital and met the helicopter as it brought in little H.
Well, really, "little" is a bit of an overstatement. She weighed 1 lb 2 oz and was 11 inches long. Imagine the length of a dollar bill. Her eyes hadn't even opened yet, they were still fused shut. But she was perfectly formed. All her little (little, little, little) fingers and toes. Her little lips and perfect ears.
We stayed there all day, marveling at how something so little could have so much fight in her. It remains, still, as one of the most spirtual experiences I have ever witnessed.
Over the next few days, the news switched between dire and heartbreaking. There was little chance of survival and our only hope was to keep her alive until her parents could make the trek up to see her one last time. They made it up after two days and it seemed like that buoyed H. She fought her way back from the brink of death on more than one occassion. Many prayers were offered in her behalf and it was a very soul-searching time for those of us directly involved. I really did see the face of God in that little baby lying in the incubator.
After six months in the hospital, H. was sent home with little hope for a viable life. However, though the diligence of my brother and his wife and the spirit of tenancity that H. embodies, she is, today, a happy, healthy 8 year old. She is truly a daily inspiration and a true miracle.
Happy Birthday!
Monday, March 21, 2011
Hermitville
Wow. I kinda fell off the edge of the social world there for a week or so. I wish I had something exciting to report, but I don't. No new novels. No new projects. No escapes to find myself. Just the same old thing. Which gets...old.
But, I'm still kicking, though most days, it would be interpreted as "lying on the couch and stuffing my face".
Whatever.
And I even did the hard parts for last week's blog entries. Like, make a new recipe, read a book, take pictures, hold intelligent conversations with myself and imagine a blog entry bestowing upon all you my wonderous insight into world matters. Apparently, though, the hard part is actually putting it on here. Which just goes to show that I may have hit rock bottom.
Yet, here I sit. So maybe I'm a few inches from rock bottom. I blame the weather. And the fact that we still have our Christmas lights up and every time there's a wind storm--which is coincidently, EVERY FREAKING DAY--I can hear them slap the windows in an annoying rattle until I want to drag the ladder out and rip them all off, except for that I would blow away. And it seems like a lot of work. So I just spend EVERY FREAKING DAY with my teeth on edge at the sound of Christmas lights in March hitting the window. Which leaves little time to do anything productive.
Sometimes, for kicks, I'll imagine those poor pioneers who treked across the plains to arrive in this desolate valley in the middle of July and realize that this was where God intended for them to stay, and I'll think, "Oh man, you had no idea what was to come, did you?" If they thought July was bad, I can only imagine what it was like that first winter, when late in the season, they would be presented with a sunny day in the mid 60's, and then the next day, be saddled with a day in the mid-40's. And for two months it just ricochets back and forth between pleasant and hellish. It's enough to drive anyone crazy, but if you were experiencing it for the first time with no help from weather reports, you'd go bananas!
I take back my previous comment about being a few inches from rock bottom. Perhaps I'm standing there as we speak.
But, I'm still kicking, though most days, it would be interpreted as "lying on the couch and stuffing my face".
Whatever.
And I even did the hard parts for last week's blog entries. Like, make a new recipe, read a book, take pictures, hold intelligent conversations with myself and imagine a blog entry bestowing upon all you my wonderous insight into world matters. Apparently, though, the hard part is actually putting it on here. Which just goes to show that I may have hit rock bottom.
Yet, here I sit. So maybe I'm a few inches from rock bottom. I blame the weather. And the fact that we still have our Christmas lights up and every time there's a wind storm--which is coincidently, EVERY FREAKING DAY--I can hear them slap the windows in an annoying rattle until I want to drag the ladder out and rip them all off, except for that I would blow away. And it seems like a lot of work. So I just spend EVERY FREAKING DAY with my teeth on edge at the sound of Christmas lights in March hitting the window. Which leaves little time to do anything productive.
Sometimes, for kicks, I'll imagine those poor pioneers who treked across the plains to arrive in this desolate valley in the middle of July and realize that this was where God intended for them to stay, and I'll think, "Oh man, you had no idea what was to come, did you?" If they thought July was bad, I can only imagine what it was like that first winter, when late in the season, they would be presented with a sunny day in the mid 60's, and then the next day, be saddled with a day in the mid-40's. And for two months it just ricochets back and forth between pleasant and hellish. It's enough to drive anyone crazy, but if you were experiencing it for the first time with no help from weather reports, you'd go bananas!
I take back my previous comment about being a few inches from rock bottom. Perhaps I'm standing there as we speak.
Saturday, March 12, 2011
#44--Win a Speech Contest
So I did it. I finally won a speech contest. I can't say that it was a sweet defeat. I was pretty much a shoe-in provided that I stayed with in my allotted time. But I didn't stammer, I didn't falter, I didn't freeze up and I didn't pee my pants. So I'll consider it a win.
The International Speech Contest is an annual speech contest where you can do ANY speech you want. Though there's this unwritten rule that they're all pretty much motivational. I'm not sure why that is, it just is. And sometimes, you have to play by "their" rules to win "their" game. So I gave my speech on taking the GRE Math Subject Exam and all its ensuing drama. Including Mighty Mouse. (Upon rereading this entry, I realize how hopeful I sounded. Sad really considering the outcome.)
And I got some good laughs and then tied it all up with my motivational one liner, which was: Don't assume that the easiest path you see will be the simplest road to travel.
Poetic, almost, isn't it?
So, what's next? I get to take my speech to the next level which is the Area contest. About six or so clubs come together and there's another round of speeches. The winner from that takes it to the Division and then that winner takes it to the District. That winner then goes on to Regionals (maybe) and then to the International Level, where they crown the Best Speaker in the World. Kinda crazy, but you have to start somewhere.
What are my hopes and dreams? I would really like to be The World's Best Speaker, but I'm going to go out on a limb and say that probably won't be happening in 2011. However, I'm going to spruce up my speech and give it my all for Area. That would be neat. No one from our club has advanced out of Area for a while. We'll see. These people are insanely good at what they do. Which is not so much writing and performing speeches for fun. Most of them give speeches of some sort for a job. But I'm important too. And I'll give it my best shot.
Yeah, I know. It's kind of a weird hobby but like I was explaining the other night to some of the club members, there are a lot of the usual Utah Mom outlets in my neighborhood like play dates and book clubs and recipe clubs and all that, but Toastmasters has really helped me grow comfortable around crowds and talking in situations under pressure, where a lot of the gals around me tend to freeze up. If I ever choose to go back into the workforce, this skill will be immensely useful. If I end up writing a best seller and have to do a press tour, this skill will be of some use. If I only stay at home and listen to Barney sing songs all day, this skill will keep me from going crazy.
So there you have it, the first entry off the list for the year. Wahoo!
The International Speech Contest is an annual speech contest where you can do ANY speech you want. Though there's this unwritten rule that they're all pretty much motivational. I'm not sure why that is, it just is. And sometimes, you have to play by "their" rules to win "their" game. So I gave my speech on taking the GRE Math Subject Exam and all its ensuing drama. Including Mighty Mouse. (Upon rereading this entry, I realize how hopeful I sounded. Sad really considering the outcome.)
And I got some good laughs and then tied it all up with my motivational one liner, which was: Don't assume that the easiest path you see will be the simplest road to travel.
Poetic, almost, isn't it?
So, what's next? I get to take my speech to the next level which is the Area contest. About six or so clubs come together and there's another round of speeches. The winner from that takes it to the Division and then that winner takes it to the District. That winner then goes on to Regionals (maybe) and then to the International Level, where they crown the Best Speaker in the World. Kinda crazy, but you have to start somewhere.
What are my hopes and dreams? I would really like to be The World's Best Speaker, but I'm going to go out on a limb and say that probably won't be happening in 2011. However, I'm going to spruce up my speech and give it my all for Area. That would be neat. No one from our club has advanced out of Area for a while. We'll see. These people are insanely good at what they do. Which is not so much writing and performing speeches for fun. Most of them give speeches of some sort for a job. But I'm important too. And I'll give it my best shot.
Yeah, I know. It's kind of a weird hobby but like I was explaining the other night to some of the club members, there are a lot of the usual Utah Mom outlets in my neighborhood like play dates and book clubs and recipe clubs and all that, but Toastmasters has really helped me grow comfortable around crowds and talking in situations under pressure, where a lot of the gals around me tend to freeze up. If I ever choose to go back into the workforce, this skill will be immensely useful. If I end up writing a best seller and have to do a press tour, this skill will be of some use. If I only stay at home and listen to Barney sing songs all day, this skill will keep me from going crazy.
So there you have it, the first entry off the list for the year. Wahoo!
Thursday, March 10, 2011
What's For Dinner Wednesday--Peking Pork with Sweet and Sour Sauce
Peking Pork with Sweet and Sour Sauce
2 C white sugar
1 C distilled vinegar
1 C water
1/4 C soy sauce
1/4 C ketchup
1/4 tsp sesame oil
2 lb boneless pork loin, cut into 1/4 in. slices
2 T Chinese Rice Wine, Sherry, or Brandy
2/3 C flour
2/3 C cornstarch
4 C peanut oil
Steamed rice
*In a large, deep-sided skillet, bring the water to a boil with the sugar and white vinegar. Cook for 1 min. stirring frequently until the sugar dissolves.
*In a small bowl, whisk the soy sauce, ketchup, and sesame oil until smooth. Whisk the soy sauce mixture into the vinegar mixture. Bring the sauce to a boil and cook, stirring occassionally, until syrupy, about 5 to 7 minutes, then lower to a simmer.
*Season both sides of the pork slices with salt and pepper. Pour the rice wine into a bowl and dredge the pork in the wine. In a shallow bowl, mix the flour and cornstarch until evenly combined. Dredge the pork in the flour mixture, shaking off the excess.
*In a wok, heat the peanut oil until a pork slice sizzles and rapidly rises to the top when placed in the oil. When the oil is ready, place 2 pork slices in. Fry for 1 minute and move to a towel-lined plate. Repeat with the remaining pork.
*Allow the oil to reheat for 2 minutes and quickly refry the pork slices, 2 at a time, for 1 more minute and drain on fresh paper towels. The slices should be crisp and golden on the outside, tender and cooked throughout.
*Transfer the cooked pork slices to thhe pan of simmering sweet and sour sauce, turning them until they are well coated. Remove the pork to a serving plate. Serve with rice.
This was a really good dish that was well received by Wade. It had a little sweet of a taste and crisped up really nice. I didn't use 4 C of peanut oil, because that's a lot of oil, Yo, so I just turned the slices over to cook on both sides using tongs. Caution though, once you started cooking, this cooked FAST.
2 C white sugar
1 C distilled vinegar
1 C water
1/4 C soy sauce
1/4 C ketchup
1/4 tsp sesame oil
2 lb boneless pork loin, cut into 1/4 in. slices
2 T Chinese Rice Wine, Sherry, or Brandy
2/3 C flour
2/3 C cornstarch
4 C peanut oil
Steamed rice
*In a large, deep-sided skillet, bring the water to a boil with the sugar and white vinegar. Cook for 1 min. stirring frequently until the sugar dissolves.
*In a small bowl, whisk the soy sauce, ketchup, and sesame oil until smooth. Whisk the soy sauce mixture into the vinegar mixture. Bring the sauce to a boil and cook, stirring occassionally, until syrupy, about 5 to 7 minutes, then lower to a simmer.
*Season both sides of the pork slices with salt and pepper. Pour the rice wine into a bowl and dredge the pork in the wine. In a shallow bowl, mix the flour and cornstarch until evenly combined. Dredge the pork in the flour mixture, shaking off the excess.
*In a wok, heat the peanut oil until a pork slice sizzles and rapidly rises to the top when placed in the oil. When the oil is ready, place 2 pork slices in. Fry for 1 minute and move to a towel-lined plate. Repeat with the remaining pork.
*Allow the oil to reheat for 2 minutes and quickly refry the pork slices, 2 at a time, for 1 more minute and drain on fresh paper towels. The slices should be crisp and golden on the outside, tender and cooked throughout.
*Transfer the cooked pork slices to thhe pan of simmering sweet and sour sauce, turning them until they are well coated. Remove the pork to a serving plate. Serve with rice.
This was a really good dish that was well received by Wade. It had a little sweet of a taste and crisped up really nice. I didn't use 4 C of peanut oil, because that's a lot of oil, Yo, so I just turned the slices over to cook on both sides using tongs. Caution though, once you started cooking, this cooked FAST.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Friday, March 4, 2011
Inspiring Teachers
I'm sure that we all had a few teachers in school who really made a difference in our lives. The first teacher I had who really turned the tide of my life was Mrs. B. She was my math teacher in 8th grade. I was retaking the class I had taken the year before on recommendation of my 7th grade teacher.
As I watched everyone file into the classroom on the first day of class, I realized that I was one of two 8th graders in the class. The rest were the high and mighty ninth graders. I was sure that I had inadvertently been put in the wrong class. When Mrs. B. handed out a placement exam to see where we all were, my hands were sweaty and so I just answered the questions to the best of my knowledge. After class, I went up to her and expressed my fears about being in the wrong class. She said she'd look over my test and then decide what to do. Sounded good to me.
The next day, the school counselor came to get me out of another class. He said that Mrs. B. wanted to speak with me. I breathed a sigh of relief as we walked to her classroom. Finally, I would be put where I belonged.
"Sandra," she said as we entered the classroom. "I want to move you up a class."
I'm sure my jaw flew open.
"You were the top scorer in the class on the placement test. You already know this stuff."
That was news to me. But I agreed to move up to the next level and that was really the pivotal point in how I ended up with a college degree in math.
As an unrelated side note: my mother-in-law did her student teaching with Mrs. B. How coincidental is that?
Another teacher I liked was Dr. U. He was my chemistry/engineering professor at the Junior College I attended. He was, for lack of a better term, strange. I was always attracted to the professors who were off the beaten path. He wasn't well liked because he was strict, but I learned to really like him. He even called my parents house over the Christmas Break to talk to me about retaking his chemistry class. There's a story there for another day.
One last professor I liked was Dr. M. He was like Dr. U. in a lot of ways. He was strange and eccentric, and not a lot of the students liked him. At first, I didn't. I found him to be abrasive and obnoxious. But, over time, I really came to like him. I had him for a class that I refer to as a "weed-out class". In the undergrad system, there are certain classes that serve as "weed-out classes" for popular programs like engineering and medical school. These classes are, I believe, purposefully made harder than they need to be so that it will deter a greater number of students from pursuing degrees in those fields. I was lucky enough to take at least two of these such classes.
So, Dr. M was mean and crass and a little unorthodox, but he had the best stories. He was an adjunct professor and so teaching wasn't his main occupation. In fact, he was director of a state-run mental health institute where the sickest of the sick go. You can imagine what kind of stories he had for us. He was also a lawyer and was always being called away to testify in trials. Out of all of my professors, he was definitely the most fascinating, even if I wasn't learning as much as I could have been.
By the time the middle of the semester rolled around, the class had dwindled from 30 students to about 15. On the day after the last day to drop classes, he announced that the last test would be cancelled and we would all get 100% and the final would be take home. He did a complete 180 degree turn in personality and was actually quite pleasant. In the end, I thought he was pure genius for it. I figured he was a nice guy all along, he was just weeding students out with his antics. I have even told this story many times over the years as an example of a professor's unorthodox teaching style and how much I ended up enjoying his class.
So you can imagine my surprise when I turned on 20/20 the other night and realized that the man who is accused of killing his wife is, in fact, the same man who taught my organic chemistry class 8 years ago. How he wasn't really a doctor and lied to get into law school and how he had gotten discharged from the army for being mentally ill. There are a host of other things that went terribly, terribly wrong as well.
Eek. What a small world.
As I watched everyone file into the classroom on the first day of class, I realized that I was one of two 8th graders in the class. The rest were the high and mighty ninth graders. I was sure that I had inadvertently been put in the wrong class. When Mrs. B. handed out a placement exam to see where we all were, my hands were sweaty and so I just answered the questions to the best of my knowledge. After class, I went up to her and expressed my fears about being in the wrong class. She said she'd look over my test and then decide what to do. Sounded good to me.
The next day, the school counselor came to get me out of another class. He said that Mrs. B. wanted to speak with me. I breathed a sigh of relief as we walked to her classroom. Finally, I would be put where I belonged.
"Sandra," she said as we entered the classroom. "I want to move you up a class."
I'm sure my jaw flew open.
"You were the top scorer in the class on the placement test. You already know this stuff."
That was news to me. But I agreed to move up to the next level and that was really the pivotal point in how I ended up with a college degree in math.
As an unrelated side note: my mother-in-law did her student teaching with Mrs. B. How coincidental is that?
Another teacher I liked was Dr. U. He was my chemistry/engineering professor at the Junior College I attended. He was, for lack of a better term, strange. I was always attracted to the professors who were off the beaten path. He wasn't well liked because he was strict, but I learned to really like him. He even called my parents house over the Christmas Break to talk to me about retaking his chemistry class. There's a story there for another day.
One last professor I liked was Dr. M. He was like Dr. U. in a lot of ways. He was strange and eccentric, and not a lot of the students liked him. At first, I didn't. I found him to be abrasive and obnoxious. But, over time, I really came to like him. I had him for a class that I refer to as a "weed-out class". In the undergrad system, there are certain classes that serve as "weed-out classes" for popular programs like engineering and medical school. These classes are, I believe, purposefully made harder than they need to be so that it will deter a greater number of students from pursuing degrees in those fields. I was lucky enough to take at least two of these such classes.
So, Dr. M was mean and crass and a little unorthodox, but he had the best stories. He was an adjunct professor and so teaching wasn't his main occupation. In fact, he was director of a state-run mental health institute where the sickest of the sick go. You can imagine what kind of stories he had for us. He was also a lawyer and was always being called away to testify in trials. Out of all of my professors, he was definitely the most fascinating, even if I wasn't learning as much as I could have been.
By the time the middle of the semester rolled around, the class had dwindled from 30 students to about 15. On the day after the last day to drop classes, he announced that the last test would be cancelled and we would all get 100% and the final would be take home. He did a complete 180 degree turn in personality and was actually quite pleasant. In the end, I thought he was pure genius for it. I figured he was a nice guy all along, he was just weeding students out with his antics. I have even told this story many times over the years as an example of a professor's unorthodox teaching style and how much I ended up enjoying his class.
So you can imagine my surprise when I turned on 20/20 the other night and realized that the man who is accused of killing his wife is, in fact, the same man who taught my organic chemistry class 8 years ago. How he wasn't really a doctor and lied to get into law school and how he had gotten discharged from the army for being mentally ill. There are a host of other things that went terribly, terribly wrong as well.
Eek. What a small world.
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