El Pulgarcito!

I am always on the search for new cuisine, which in my case isn’t hard. I grew up in the Midwest and haven’t traveled to many exotic or faraway places, so quite a few things are new to me. I did, however, think I had a grasp of Latin food. Until yesterday when we were out and about with one of our favorite couples, Gregg and Monica, and they suggested we stop for Pupusas. Troy and I just looked at each other and shrugged, but he loves a new food as much as I do, so we enthusiastically agreed.

We pulled into a little place that I have driven by 100 times but didn’t even know was there, an El Salvadorian restaurant named El Pulgarcito on Merriam Drive. A little hole in the wall, experience has taught me, generally yields the most delicious cuisine.

We grabbed a booth and were immediately waited on by a very nice waitress. You could see the chef busily preparing dinners in the kitchen behind the counter. There was an eclectic group of customers, Spanish- speaking patrons, a table of nicely dressed Overland Park types and our own Motley Crew.

The owner sent over a plate of complimentary Fried Yucca root. They are similar to potatoes, but have a lighter density and these were cooked to perfection. The yucca was served with a salsa that complimented them perfectly. YUM! If this simple appetizer was cooked with such consideration, I couldn’t wait to try our entrees.

We all ordered the same thing, Carne Asada tacos and Pork and Cheese Pupusas. Each table has a large jar filled with a Salvadorian Coleslaw to use a condiment or salad. It was fresh, crunchy, spicy and delicious.

The tacos did not disappoint. The seasoned shredded beef was cooked with experience, not too dry, not greasy, very flavorful. The tacos featured handmade tortillas, fresh salsa and a healthy dose of cilantro and onion on the side; but we were there for the PUPUSAS! Oh my God, they were so good. Why have I not had these before? It was a fairly simple concept but so (what are some more adjectives for delicious) fabulous, yummy, – Heaven!
What is a pupusa? Think thick corn tortillas stuffed with shredded pork and cheese – crispy on the outside and warm and gooey on the inside.

So what could possibly make this better? The prices. You could easily feed you entire family here for $15.
I can’t wait to try these at home, but why go to all that work when El Pulgarcito has already perfected them!?

I’m still here

Wow, has really been almost two months since my last blog? I’m still here and I’m still cooking. I’m starting a new blog specifically designed around my Personal Chef Business and I’m going to use this one for my random ramblings. Everyone has been asking about my business and whether it’s a success. I guess it depends on how you define success. Am I getting rich? Hahahahaha…no. I am staying busy though. We’ve almost got enough to stay on top of our bills. But as far as I am concerned, It’s a success! I LOVE what I do now,my clients have been giving me wonderful feedback and my family is enthusiastically supportive, all except for my youngest who isn’t appreciating the financial cutbacks he’s been asked to make..but he’s 17, so GET A JOB! – I can be snarky now, because this is my personal blog.

The best part of my job is cooking for regular people. It’s nice cooking in the fancy kitchen’s of upscale neighborhood in Loch Loydd or Mission Hills, but what makes me happiest is cooking for families just like mine, who’s lives have gotten so busy trying to make ends meet that “making dinner” is just one more stress they could do without. They are wonderfully appreciative and I really feel like I’m doing something good in the universe when I can make their lives a little easier and healthier. So against the advise of my Personal Chef Association, I lowered my prices to where I’m only making about $100 per client. It’s crazy, I know but it’s the only way I can keep doing what I love.

So that’s what I’ve been up to. Redesigning my website and business plans, cooking regularly and surviving a house filled with testosterone. My oldest moved out around Christmas but is back almost daily to do laundry or raid my refrigerator. We still have our unofficial adopted son. (Who’s dad decided to move out of the state without even tell us) and both my younger boys are Juniors in high school. Troy’s been busy with the new camera I got him for his 40th Birthday and his band stuff and of course acting as my taste tester for new recipes. My band has some shows lined up for the summer and I’m getting anxious to start planting my garden. You’re all caught up!

“Supper”bowl

I’m really not much of a sports fan, I couldn’t even tell you who is playing this year – but I am a fan of a party so bring it on. As far as I’m concerned this Sunday night is all about the commercials and the food. My favorite snack dip is Buffalo Chicken dip but I’ve brought it to parties before and would like to try something else this year. I’m tempted to bring the Irish nacho recipe I saw on Rachel Ray (shut it, sometimes she has some good ones) But I’m pretty sure that I am the only one in my group of friends who appreciates shredded corned beef and sauerkraut. Too many choices and I’m so busy working on menus for clients this week that my brain doesn’t have much creativity left for Sunday’s party. So I’m reaching out to you, all eight of my faithful readers. What is your favorite snack to bring to a party? Do you have any favorite recipes that you would be willing to share. I would love to hear them!

Here’s a preview of one the upcoming Pepsi commercials.

The year of the Ox

I was going to do a post about Chinese New year and the year of the ox. I thought I’d celebrate by making Oxtail soup. I saw a wonderful recipe for it with red wine and root vegetables the other day. As I started making my grocery list the thought hit me, The Ox is supposed to be the sign of prosperity through fortitude and hard work and I’m really hoping to have prosperous year…so maybe cooking up the tail of governing animal spirit is not the best way to obtain his favor. We had salmon burgers instead.

“Glore, Golem and Ushpizin” or My date with Troy

We’ve been going stir-crazy lately. The weather, our limited finance, the constant chaos that is teenage boys has left little time for “date nights”. But Saturday all the stars aligned and Troy and I found ourselves headed to St. Joseph Mo, with time on our hands and 50.00 in our pockets.

We hit a small snag as we drove up and down Fredrick looking for this famous Maid Rite we’d heard so much about. Finally we gave up and stopped at a small red and white restaurant called Crumbly Burger. Turns out Maid-Rite closed in September and is now Crumbly Burger. I wasn’t really that impressed. I’ve never had a loose meat sandwich and I thought it would be like a sloppy joe, but this was a rather dry sandwich of tasteless ground beef on a bun. The place itself was quaint and reminiscent of a 50’s diner. It was also packed so I guess the locals think it’s the bee’s knees.

Then we headed to the Glore Psychiatric Museum. We had heard about it for years but this was our first visit. From the moment we drove in, we knew we’d found a treasure. The State Hospital which used to be called State Lunatic Asylum #2 but has since been turned into a prison. Driving past the high security fences topped with barbed wire you park with a view of the prison to your right and the museums to the left.

There are three museums housed in this building, A Native American museum, A Black Archive Museum and the Glore. (All for five bucks!) While I found the first two more interesting than I would have thought, we were there for the Glore.

It was such a surreal place. The building itself was extremely institutional as it is in the original the building that had once been used as the admitting ward and the clinic for hospital patients. Apparently George Glore himself used to give self guided tours until the 90’s.

It was eerily quiet and the heels on my boots echoed throughout the empty halls as we made our way from one disturbing exhibit to the next. Strange mannequins dressed in vintage polyester were strapped to the therapeutic (torture) devices that were at one time used in the hospital. There were displays of fascinating artwork from schizophrenic patients. A display of the some of the 1,446 non-food items that a female patient swallowed (she died during surgery) and an array of medical devices that would make even the most die hard horror fans squirm, because unlike the Hollywood gore that we’ve become accustomed to, this was real.

The last stop at the museum is the still functioning morgue. When patients were left at the hospital, there families were told to send clothes for them to be buried in because most would never leave. Due to the shame of mental illness, most of these patients were left and forgotten and died alone. I was told that my Great-grandfather died in a sanitarium, but that’s all I know. I stood in the quiet room looking at the cold metal slabs and wondered if he was ever in this room laying in one of those refrigerated boxes. If not this hospital it was probably one like it. The gloom of dehumanization hangs thick here.

After buying a couple postcards and two cherry mashes (total of 80 cents) we left the Glore behind and started on our way back home.

With $40 still burning a hole in our pocket we took a side trip to Gladstone to shop the D.A.V and Goodwill. We came away with a pretty good collection of Blue Ridge Pottery, some black motorcycle boots and two new CD’s. SCORE!

We listened to one of our new treasures ,Golem, a Klezmer Punk band, which kept the insanity theme alive on our drive home and made a quick stop by Sam’s Club for beer and frozen White Castle burger (Like I said, insanity was the name of our date and no, we weren’t smoking anything)

We got home around 7pm and found a new Netflix movie in our pile of mail. Ushpizin an Israeli film that threw us into a culture and religion we had never had much exposure to and enjoyed immensely.

The evening ended sitting in the dark relaxing to our 2^nd Goodwill purchase, Giant Squid. Drinking our beer and listening to 20 minutes doom metal songs in our PJ’s. Sweet dreams of bleeding leech jars and the mystical Golem dancing the hora in our heads. My dates with Troy are never boring.

Here today – gone tomorrow…

I went to the grocery store on Tuesday. I have three teenage boys. Today is Wednesday. That means this morning there were no eggs, no bacon, no milk  and a only a couple of slices of bread (one being the heal). So my breakfast this morning consisted of peanut butter (pray for no salmonella poisoning) and marshmallow fluff (left over from Christmas fudge ingredients) sandwich.  When I went to bed last night there were four filets of leftover Salmon filets put away for lunch – GONE. Thank God I have a client today. That means $200 more dollars to spend on groceries that my boys will devour. I think it’s time they get jobs.

America the beautiful!

I was born in 1967 at the tail end of what’s considered the civil rights movement, smack in the middle of the Vietnam War and into the Nixon era. The TV seemed to always be on in my house and the news was never good. Even though I was young, I will have those images of black men and women being hosed like animals and children being burned by bombs, cemented in my mind forever.

As I went off to school, I began learning America’s history. I don’t know if it’s because it was the 70’s and the teachers were very mindful of teaching what was politically correct or because my mind only clung to the sad parts and not the stories of why this county was created in the first place, but I came away from it very disheartened. We came here for freedom and then forced the Native Americans into reservations. We took away their pride, their beliefs, their land. We sang “Free to Be you and Me” for our bi-centennial celebration…free at what price?

The television taught me an important history lesson in 1977 via the mini-series Roots. My family was glued to the TV for eight nights. I came from a white neighborhood and my grade school had two black students. At ten years old, my eyes, my heart were opened. How could we? I was told we were an example for the rest of the world. My heart broke. I was not proud of our county.

At thirteen, I joined a church that was very involved in politics. This evangelical church taught me that we should be ashamed of what our county has become and that if we didn’t change from what they told me were our wicked ways, we would soon see the wrath of the God. I am sad to say I was very involved in this church until my 30s. I campaigned and voted with the religious right. I prayed for our evil county.

At 31, I left the church of my youth. My mind became open for the first time and I began to relearn God. The God I learned was a God of love, a God of acceptance and a God of freedom. And seeing the United States from the other side, I was once again disheartened by our county. I watched as the precious freedoms we did have began to be taken away from us by the religious mindset that had once been my own.

Eventually I decided it was hopeless. I decided to live my life the best I could and not waste anymore time trying to change the unchangeable. I gave up.

I can honestly say, apologetically, that this is the first time I have felt any patriotism or pride in our county. I would never have admitted it before. I silently agreed with Michelle Obama as they raked her over the coals. I understood what the Rev Wright meant when he said “God damn America” (even though it was taken out of context). I loved my county and I loved my people but could not hold my head high and join the chorus of “ I’m Proud to be an American.” I was ashamed of Bush’s war. Ashamed that my gay friends were denied basic rights because of whom they loved. I was ashamed that as the richest country in the world, we have children going to bed hungry. Ashamed that proper healthcare, legal representation and the government itself, were only for the elite.

I have never felt as much pride in our country as I did yesterday, January 20^th, 2010 as we voted in our first minority president. And it’s not the man that made me a believer, it’s the people. I have the utmost respect for Obama and am thrilled to have him as our Commander and Chief. What overwhelmed me was “We, the people” made a difference. For the first time since 1967, I feel HOPE and it feels good. When Bono was questioned as to why he was performing in the Inauguration ceremony. He said “Because America is not just a country it’s an idea.” I get it now and I think the world does too!

Ricky Raccoon meets his demise at 39th street

One of the benefits of hiring a Personal Chef as opposed to a Caterer, is that I customize the menus specifically for the client.  I will cook whatever you like.  No onions? No problem.  Gluten-Free? Absolutely! You want me to use your grandmothers meatloaf recipe with oatmeal and topped with ketchup? YUCK, but I will enthusiastically comply. But PLEASE, PLEASE,PLEASE don’t ask me to make a coon casserole!

Raccoon for Sale in KC

Dance like no one is watching

No matter how hard I try to stay away from New Years resolutions, something about the passing of one year and the beginning of a new one always seems to infiltrate my mind with pauses of reflection, a mental tally of my life over the past year and where I would like it to be at this time next year. I guess that’s not all bad.

I’m a Pisces and “old soul” so to speak so most of my resolutions are internal, spiritual ones. Nothing I can physically measure. Of course I want to improve on the age old quests to manage my finances better, take better care of my health, grow my business, decrease my ecological footprint etc, but these are things I have been working on for years and will continue to be striving for.

This year my goals are internal ones:

I want to be kinder to my children. I seem to have this gift with others. I think I am compassionate, empathetic, encouraging but I guiltily admit that I have some short comings when it comes to dealing with my own. I am so proud of my boys. They are my heart, but too often instead of reaching out and touching their hand and telling them how much I love them, I criticize their choices, or offer my unsolicited advice. I have three boys and one unofficial adopted son. There ages are 20, 18,17 and 16. It’s a weird transition for me to move from constantly parenting to stepping back and allowing them to be on their own. I have to let go of the directions that I thought their lives should take. I have to trust that God will direct their paths, not me. This year I want to step back, offer my love and encouragement without judgment or criticism

This year I want to learn to relax. From the outside it may seem that I do, but my slow periods are usually only because I am frozen with anxiety to the point where I “shut down” I have been diagnosed with GAD ( Generalized Anxiety Disorder). I’ve had it for as long as I can remember. I have spent years off and on in therapy, on medications but as things got better, I forgot the relaxation techniques. I quit my prescriptions. I fell back into the strangely comfortable pattern of living in a constant state of anxiety. I have already consulted a doctor about the issue. (I haven’t done that in almost 5 years) I am going to fight the urge to not go back, to give up and instead will continue to work taming this demon. I will learn not to sweat the small stuff and I will remember that most of it is small stuff.

I will learn to play! This should be the fun part and yet it’s always been difficult for me. It was an assignment I had 10 years ago with a therapist whose opinion I really respected. I have, as I admitted, always been an old soul. I wasn’t playful as a child. I never really learned how to relax and have fun. Wow, I sound like such a wonderful person to be around huh? For those of you who know me, you may not even know. I have learned to over compensate my fear of “letting go” with a pretty good disguise. I have utilized my “must be in control” mentality, to learn how to work a crowd, say the right things, smile at the right times, make the appropriate jokes but the truth is underneath, it is all very calculated. This year I am going to find that inner child and let her loose. I’m not going to worry about making a fool of myself. I’m not going to worry that people might not accept me or judge me harshly. As a matter of fact I’m going to do the opposite of what my brain usually does and assume the best!

The mental image I keep having is of the Laughing Buddha.  I assume he’s a deep thinker, keenly aware of the world and it’s trials and yet he is smiling. A true inner joy that can not be contained as he pours out his laughter to no one in particular.

I know you have probably seen this quote before but while writing this post it came to my mind and I thought “ Yes, exactly. This will be my New Year’s resolution”:

“Dance like no one is watching,

Love like you’ll never be hurt,

Sing like no one is listening,

Live like it’s heaven on earth.”

Closed for the Holidays

As you can probably tell by my lack luster posts, I am crazy busy right now and just don’t have the time or the brain power left to blog this month. I hope to start again in January. (I know you will be waiting with baited breath) Come out to our show at Davey’s on the 19th and say “Hi!”
Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to you and yours!!