Mama Kat’s Writing Workshop: an excuse to introduce you to my cat

Posted on May 16, 2013 by tantrumsandtomatoes

Today I’m shamefully abusing Mama Kat’s Writing Workshop to introduce you to a very important member of my household. (At least that is how he considers himself)

Folks, meet my cat!

Name : Attila

Age: 7

Know aliases : Blackie, Mr Cat, His Royal Blackness, Fleabag, Wormypants.

Nickname: Allatilla (Given to him by N°2)

Family :

Mother (name not known)

Father, unknown. Presumed to be a large handsome British Shorthair who regularly courted Mother

Sister called Hera (deceased)

Likes: Food, sleep, mauling the neighbour’s cat, terrorizing small dogs, teasing big dogs, hunting mice and birds

Dislikes : Loud noises, children, dogs, other male cats (females are tolerated after they have accepted him as the rightful Laird of the street and neighbouring fields)

Dream: to finally catch one of those pheasants which lurk in the fields behind our house during autumn

Greatest fear: the vacuum cleaner

Greatest trauma : That one time he was given a bath as a young kitten because an older cat had peed on him.

Currently on my shitlist because : he brought bloodsucking vermin into the house (in other words: I had the intense displeasure of removing a TICK from the back of my youngest’ head. Rest assured, the beast hadn’t started leeching yet and I got everything out, but OMG I could have killed that cat).

I’m currently on his shitlist because: I kicked him out of the house and when he was allowed back in I treated him with foul-smelling products against ticks, mites, fleas, etc.

Most private thing he is willing to admit: Sometimes he likes to feel pretty.

*my sincere apologies to Mama Kat, but I was unable to make the button appear on my site.

Vexation and revenge (and hoping for flowers…)

Posted on May 12, 2013 by tantrumsandtomatoes

As I am typing this little ditty my husband is working. Which is a completely normal occupation. Most people work. And in return we call them functional and responsible members of society.

But most people don’t work on Sunday night. Especially if they have been working semi non-stop since Wednesday evening. Those kind of people are considered to have an unnatural relationship with their work. Indeed some of them even follow therapy. They are called workaholics, or so I have heard.

Fortunately I know my husband is not afflicted with this disease. Or any other kind of – aholic. Unless there is such a thing as sports-aholic, then we need to talk.

But yes, he has been working almost non-stop since Wednesday. A few hours where devoted to sleep, eating and *ahem* answering Mother Nature’s phone calls (bitch won’t talk to an answering machine) but the rest of his time between Wednesday and Sunday evening has been spend on work.

Oh wait we also attended concert on Friday and spend a night at the Belgian Coast in consequence. This is the main reason why I’m oh so very slightly pissed off.

Ok, perhaps pissed off is not the right term. Vexed. There that is better. I’m vexed. Vexed that what was supposed to be a lovely day at the coast with my spouse did not go as planned. Oh we did go to the concert (Boudewijn De Groot, if you are curious, a dapper little nearly-70year old) and it was a-ma-zing, but that was it. And even those felt stolen from the almighty computer.

I’m vexed because it is so rare that we get to spend some time apart, because this outing had been carefully planned months in advance, because I was really looking forward to an opportunity to rekindle my love – affair with the sea and indulge in some seriously good seafood.

That was what I was really looking forward to most of all. A platter of fruit de mer, some nice wine, my husband, the sea. The picture show in my brain was so realistic and lifelike that I was sure this time the daydreams would come true. And it would have been THE opportunity to impress you with my newly honed food-writing skills. Oh how I would describe the taste and feel of oysters, Couteau de mer, mussels and of course the famous Ostend shrimp… I love me some seafood.

But there was none of it. And so I am vexed.

Vexation does funny things with me, it makes me want to torture my husband in all kinds of creative ways. For instance I will act like the understanding, dutiful wife the world thinks I am but I will answer innocent questions such as “what are you doing?” with “Plotting revenge.”, take out a plastic bin liner whenever my husband enters the kitchen, request duct tape and casually drop hints regarding my preference for roses versus tulips.

And I make him walk through Ostend like this:

Am I being a bit of a bitch? Yes, of course. It is not (entirely) his fault and he is also dissapointed. But still… I really would like some flowers .. or earrings, those would be nice too…

Ladies and Gentlemen, we thank you for your patience there might be a slight delay…

Posted on May 7, 2013 by tantrumsandtomatoes

There might be a sligth delay in posting the next few days/weeks. Mainly because there a LOT of stuff going on right now, both bloggy wise and other…

But I’m staying true to my promise to attempt better writting and concentrate more on the food part of the blog.

Need proof? This arrived last Friday:

Time to get serious…

A depressing amount of malaise and how a steaming bowl of lentils saved the day

Posted on May 2, 2013 by tantrumsandtomatoes

A general feeling of disenchantment, of tiredness, of feeling underappreciated. A spring which takes forever to take the actual leap and kick old man winter in the groin an’ outta here. Children who seem to be possessed by the Devil: sweet and syrupy one minute, hell’s worst fury the next. Stuff – so much – stuff – that needs to be done and so many things that require immediate attention on top of the usual truckload of house – and other work.

I am drained. Each morning I wake up tired and each night I go to bed even more tired. My fuse is so short these days that I’m not to be trusted with any type of sharp object in my vicinity or bad things are bound to happen.

Everybody seems to expect that I leap through the ever greener grass looking for diamond encrusted unicorns or a leprechaun with a pot of gold, while the only thing I want to do is bury myself in a cave, curl up with the dragon and take a nap so long even Sleeping Beauty would call it excessive.

But of course I can’t do that, because when I signed up for this motherhood gig I lost all right to wallow in self – created despair or feel tired and cranky at ALL. Nope, mama needs to have her happy face on all the time, even if she would rather bawl her eyes out. Hiding in the closet is not an option either.

And so I let things slide. Some things get done, while others are waiting in line and are throwing me frowny looks which I will pretend to ignore. Until of course I cannot escape them any longer and need to face them, head hanging with shame.

One of the task that was sitting front row in the “not-now-later-but-you-will-feel-oh-so-guilty-for-postponing-this” section of my to-do list was grocery shopping.

Usually at the beginning of the week I make up the menu for the next couple of days, items are written down and the whole shebang goes through the internet and is waiting patiently for me to pick it up at the grocery store. Not this week though… and not last week either. There were enough excuses: “hmm, we still have enough of laundry detergent to last a week”, “There is still some left-over pasta sauce in the freezer, I’ll use that” and “There is still some of that X *insert any type of dish* left over, with some salad it will make a nice dinner and it is better for our budget”.

Truth is I just couldn’t be bothered with the whole menu-planning thing. Nothing appealed, nothing seemed worth trying and I had only enough energy left to open the freezer, pick up a container, pull open the microwave and wait for the done- defrosting-ding.

Unfortunately this game can only be played for so long before somebody or something gives in. Tonight the freezer was unable to yield any more ready-made options. So I was forced to choose between cooking or eating cereal for dinner.

Now it is fortunate that I had only me to take into account, otherwise there most certainly would have been a bowl of cereal waiting for my husband when he got home. But since it was just me on my lonesome I could choose any odd thing I wanted.

A quick run of the pantry revealed some lentils, a lone jar of tomato cubes and in the refrigerator I found some spicy Moroccan sausages. Perfect.

Lentils with spicy sausage and harissa sauce (for one hungry soul)

Ingredients

100gr. of lentils

1 can of chopped tomatoes (400gr)

1 teaspoon of Harissa pasta

1 shallot, chopped

100ml of chicken stock

Spicy or regular sausages

Some olive oil for frying

How to:

Heat up the olive oil in a pan and add half the shallot, when the shallots are glazed over add the Harissa pasta and stir about, add the can of tomatoes and leave to bubble happily over a slow heat.

Put some more olive oil in another pan and heat up, add the remaining shallot and then the lentils, add chicken stock until the lentils are covered and leave to shimmer peacefully for about 20minutes.

Heat up some more olive oil in a skillet over medium heat, when hot add the sausage and bake.

Throw on plate and feel better because you cooked yourself dinner. Like a responsible grown up.

Revisting the Hidden Evil Within : Fruit icecream popsicles.

Posted on April 25, 2013 by tantrumsandtomatoes

Ladies and Gentlemen I’m pleased to announce you that after a long and hardy fight Spring has finally vanquished Winter and we are at long last on our way to have some decent weather here! There are all sorts of things happening right now and I’m looking forward to some new challenges, but as this also means a lot of extra work I’m taking the liberty of leaving you with an oldie: Victor van Spraut zu Sauerkraut and his trusty aid Igor on fruit icecream popsicles :

It is a gorgeous summer’s day. A bright blue sky hums with heat over meadows, filled with poppies, sheep and butterflies. The sun stands at her highest and its rays cast a golden haze over the world. All is well, or so it seems…

A lone ray of sunshine finds its way through the grime encrusted window of the manor, all it does is illuminate the dust and decay which reign supreme in this old house. Angrily Victor von Sprout zu Sauerkraut draws the blinds against the sunlit panorama. This weather is not to his liking. But then again, so are lots of other things.

‘IGOR’, he bellows, ‘where is that cursed idiot? Probably in the garden under that cursed apple tree. ’ Contrary to his inclination he re-opens the blinds and opens the window, a warm breeze drifts in, bringing the smells of summers with her, hay, field flowers,… For a brief moment the professor is transported to years now long gone by, when he was still young and … No, those years and the follies of youth are behind him. With a shake of the head he chases those thoughts from his mind and calls out once more: ‘IGOR! To the laboratory, we have work to do!’ Angrily he bangs the window, after a moment’s hesitation he leaves the blind open. He stares musingly at the blue of the sky, lost in his thoughts, until he hears Igor entering the house. Quickly he leaves the room and the sunlight and hastens to the laboratory to continue that which has cost him so dear all those years ago.

In the laboratory Igor is already busy with the preparations for today’s experiment. He eagerly polishes the blender until its shines.

‘Master’, he bows when the professor enters. ‘I have gotten that what you require from the greenhouse. See here: 1 mango, 1 banana and one ripe melon’.

The professor strokes his chin absentmindedly. ‘Very good my dear Igor, very good’ .

Igor looks up in surprise, unused as he is to praise. But quickly he looks at the fruit he has grown and gathered with such loving care, wondering what his master wants with it, hoping against hope that it will be for good this time and not for the more sinister concoctions his master is sometimes apt to make.

‘Let’s keep things simple today, my dear Igor. Just peel the mango and the banana and half of the melon. Now don’t forget to deseed the last one will you.’

Igor can barely hide his astonishment! What has come over his master? But he does as he is told and cleans the fruit. When he is done he turns round to see his master standing before his worktable, looking as if his mind is a thousand miles away.

‘Master’, he softly says, ‘I have finished cleaning the fruits, what now?’

The professor swings round: ‘Oh just blend them together, I don’t care.’ Igor does not know what to do, his master has never uttered the words ‘I don’t care’ when it comes to his work! His work for which he gave up so much! Now not to care! What in the world could have happened to him?

For some minutes the only sound is the sound of the trusty blender mixing the fruits. When this is done, the sound seems to awaken the professor from his reverie. He goes to the cupboard and takes out a mold. When Igor has finished blending he approaches the hunchback and tells him: ‘ Good, good, now pour the mixture in the mold and then put these sticks in the fluid.’

Carefully Igor pours the fruit mixture into the different compartments of the mold, taking care not to spill a single drop. Gingerly he inserts the colorful sticks. He awaits instructions…

‘Good, now we must put this into the freezer, give it to me, I will do it myself. You go back out and continue the good work in the garden’ Igor nearly faints from surprise, but hastens away.

The little hunchback walks out into the brilliant sun and returns to his beloved garden. He weeds, waters and talks to his plants. After a few hours he hears his master’s hasty footsteps on the gravel. Terror strikes his heart, his master never ventures outside, but to punish him or to give him some foul mission. There he is, coming around the corner now…

‘Here’ the professor grunts, ‘I thought you might like this after your hard work’, and he proffers Igor something which looks like a brightly colored ice-cream popsicle on a colorful stick. Igor tastes carefully. Oh how refreshing after this toiling! Then he recognizes the colorful stick..

‘Master, this is the fruit we have blended! You have made ice-cream popsicles of it!’ Igor shouts in surprise. He looks up to see his master… No surely his eyes are deceiving him: his master has a popsicle too!

‘Eh, yes, yes that is correct, they are good no’ he nods absentmindedly. ‘Yes master, they are good’ Igor agrees quietly. For he can guess what is on his master’s mind…

‘Come my friend let us sit in the shade of that apple three and enjoy this delicacy’, says the professor and he walks to the three, Igor happily following him.

So the basic recipe is:

- Take 1 banana, 1 mango and half a cantaloupe melon, peel them, cut them up, blend them together, pour into ice cream molds and stick in the freezer for a couple of hours.

- Give to your ecstatic children and take one for yourself.

A special Sunday afternoon for two

Posted on April 22, 2013 by tantrumsandtomatoes

Last Sunday I did something very special. Well, it was not “swimming with dolphins” -special, but it was more like ”Not something you do every day, but will probably do again real soon” – special.

I took the eldest to the petting zoo. Alone. Without her father or her sister. Just us girls.

The youngest was sick and my husband had to work – on a sunny Sunday, poor thing. So while n°2 took a forced and much detested nap we set out to explore a new petting zoo which has recently opened in the neighbourhood.

There was nothing special about the petting zoo, we do that fairly often, but it was special because it was just her and me.

Ever since n°2 came into our lives we have almost never been alone, a few trips to the grocery store not included. Since I had both children within the space of 17 months all her memories of time spend alone with mommy are either gone or turned into misty reminiscences of which it is unclear whether they were ever real.

Don’t get me wrong : my children love one another dearly, except of course when they both want to play with the same Barbie doll, then you better remove all sharp objects from the room. But part of being the big sister is that you are rarely the sole subject of your mother’s attention for a couple of hours. You always have to share mommy with someone. And since n°2 enjoys playing the part of ‘Baby’ with gusto she all too often steals the limelight, leaving poor n°1 standing on the sidewalk in the semi-darkness.

So to get mommy’s attention she turns to monkey tricks. Running about, screaming, jumping on one leg all the while yelling : “Look mommy, look what I can do!”. Anything to bring the spotlight back to her.

I imagine being an elder sibling is a bit like being a former A-list star, who has sunk down to Celebrity Has Been – level and tries to regain her/his glory by participating in “talent” shows, getting pregnant, having fake weddings, much talked about divorces… you get the picture.

But this Sunday she was without doubt the star of the show. We didn’t do much. We just walked about, looking at the animals, commenting on the smell of the pigs, I held a baby rabbit so she could pet it (mentally praying the poor frightened rodent wouldn’t pee or poop all over me), we climbed stuff, we jumped on a bouncy castle, we went down a slide together, hand in hand. But when you are four life doesn’t really get any better than that.

So it is really not surprising she insists we have to going back when n°2 feels better. Because every girl deserves to pet a baby rabbit and slide down a slide with mommy, the slide is big enough for the three of us anyway.

Arrrrr a pirate I be!

Posted on April 17, 2013 by tantrumsandtomatoes

What?
You thought I was just joking with that blog title?
Nope.
And no, I have not been asked as an extra in a new Pirate of the Caribean movie. Nor do I need to attend a pirate themed party.
It’s called uveitis and it is a recurring eye infection. I usually get this every two years.
And in order to “spare” my poor, red eye I need to wear an eyepatch to protect it from light.
Luckily it doesn’t hurt too much. It is just annoying. Putting on make-up is a bit of a challenge. I nearly impalled myself with a mascara this morning.
So, wanna swap mermaid jokes?

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I’m not very good with compliments

Posted on April 15, 2013 by tantrumsandtomatoes

Sometimes an innocent remark can irk me beyond measure. It can be anything. Just a casual observation concerning the dirt on a shoe, a coat, the fact that I’m eating a piece of chocolate… And sometimes it happens when the other person meant to make a compliment.

This happened Saturday.

I ran into a woman whom I had not seen for several years. There was the usual kind of chat between those who had been acquainted in the past but not to such an extent that it justified a Facebook – friending in the present. The woman was accompanied by a small child and I was similarly accompanied. Yet for some reason she supposed that my girls were not my own.

Rest assured gentle reader, she did not suspect me of being part of some of sort child – abduction ring. She just thought that I was babysitting, playing auntie or whatever. Which seems strange because if I ever where to become an auntie or if I was just paying a friend a favour by watching her/his offspring, a trip to the fishmonger would most certainly not be my idea of a treat. Because that is where this happened. At the fishmonger, who happens to be my nephew. A fact which has no bearing on the story but which you now know.

And that is when she made her remark: “you are so lucky to have lost the pregnancy – weight”.

This was clearly meant as a compliment. Given with a gentle sigh as she looked down on her offspring, who had apparently caused her body to take on a new – clearly despised – shape, although she looked absolutely fine and the same as ever to me.

It was a nice thing to say, although it is a blatant lie, which she would have known if I had been naked, but since society frowns on naked shopping, I was able to pass as ‘never has carried and delivered child”.

But it was the “lucky” which gave me a momentary pause.

Yes, it is true that I’m back to the same weight and roughly the same body shape (about-ish) as before I had my two children.

But that has nothing to do with luck. It is the result of about three years of devoted gym – attendance , yoga and healthy eating.

Three years. That is how long it took me to get back into … well… a shape… of sorts. Let’s say hourglass shape, only it contains a lot of sand… *kachem*.

But anyway, dear person I used to know, thank you for your compliment. I appreciate the gesture, even though I was only express my feelings through an “Ehrm, yeah… Oh yes, my turn! Yeah hi! Uh, do you have any tuna?!”

Rhubarb Meringue Pie or how I tried and failed to make my child appreciate the subtle beauty of rhubarb

Posted on April 11, 2013 by tantrumsandtomatoes

You already know I bake right? I’ve always loved to bake, the whole process of throwing butter, eggs, sugar and flour together, the delicious smells coming from the kitchen, the warmth of the oven,… .

But sadly my little hobby is not without danger or unfortunate side-effects. Such as cellulite or burns from forgetting to put on oven mitts.

Fortunately I found a very good ointment to deal with the burns. And the cellulite… let’s not talk about that shall we…

But let’s focus on the baking instead of my thighs.

Last weekend I made these. And they were heavenly, but unfortunately left me with too much rhubarb. Please note that I use the word ‘unfortunately’ in a very loose manner.

There is nothing unfortunate about too much rhubarb. At least that is my humble opinion. Should you ask my eldest she would tell you that she eats everything, except for Belgian Endive … and rhubarb.

We are talking about the kid who likes spicy chorizo, thinks wasabi-yoghurt-mayonnaise is THE perfect dip for her carrots, cucumber or fish hamburgers, who gobbles up beetroot like there is no tomorrow and who has a slight preference for couscous and a complete crush on saffron risotto.

She doesn’t like rhubarb. To be fair I let her taste a raw piece when we were making the muffins. And she did not like it. And then she tried the muffins and was oh so very disappointed because she had made those cakes practically all by herself so how come she did not like them?! It doesn’t makes sense! When you break the egg, pour the flour/butter/sugar/etc. and watch the Kenwood do its job you are supposed to make something nice and you are supposed to like it!

Poor, poor n°1.

It was the rhubarb that did it. The relationship went wrong at the very first tasting.

Even though I’m well acquainted with my girl’s stubbornness I decided she should give rhubarb another go before we put it in the “maybe she will grow into it one day” category of food. Perhaps she would like it better if we sweetened things up.

In other words I made a rhubarb pie. A Rhubarb Meringue Pie to be exact. I figured the sweetness of the meringue would balance the sourness of the rhubarb and by adding some pudding to the mix I hoped to create that elusive mix of flavours called “Nomnomnami” . It’s like Unami, but different.

Nothing doing. The pie was delicious, but did not turn n°1 into a rhubarb devotee.

This pie is a lot of work. Especially since I made the dough for the crust myself, if you want to use a ready-made crust be my guest. The home-crust is however compensated by the out –of-the box pudding. The good thing about this pie is that you can make crust, pudding and rhubarb filling beforehand and assemble it all when you want to serve it.

Rhubarb Meringue Pie

Ingredients:

For the crust :

250 gr. of flour

125 cold butter

1 egg

100gr of plain white sugar

1 teaspoon of baking powder

Extra flour for rolling out the pastry

For the pudding

- 1 package of pudding powder (brand used: Imperial)

- ¾ L. of milk

- 75 gr. of plain white sugar

For the rhubarb filling

- 500 gr. of rhubarb, cleaned and chopped

- a teaspoon of unsalted butter

- a tablespoon of sugar (note: I used brown sugar to get a bit more kick in it, you are quite welcome to use plain white sugar)

For the meringue:

- 2 eggs whites

- 100 gr. of plain white sugar

How to

For the crust

- mix the flour, baking powder and sugar in a bowl,

- cut the cold butter into tiny pieces and add to the other ingredients along with the egg,

- mix the flour and butter, preferably with your hands. Normally I’m all for modern technology making our lives easier, but I find that you get the best results when you go old-school on this type of dough

- when you have a nice smooth ball of dough put it in the refrigerator for about 30 minutes

-heat the oven to 200C° , grease a 20cm. pie tin.

-throw some flour (note: if you have children who insist on doing this make sure the understand that ‘some’ does NOT mean ‘the whole freakin’ bag’) on a kitchen table/counter, place the dough on it and roll it out until you have a slab of about 2cm. thick and wide enough to cover the baking tin

- put the dough in the backing tin and press firmly against the edges, cut of excess dough, give to your children and tell them they can roll it out and make cookies with it

- while the kids are happily engaged put baking paper on the dough and pour in baking beans or ceramic baking pearls.

- bake for about 20 to 30 minutes.

- leave to cool before you take this out of the tin (seriously, be patient, otherwise the fucker will break)

For the pudding:

- follow the instructions on the package (what!)

- You will have too much pudding, but that is ok, put half of it away in a bowl and pour the other half in tiny bowls for the kids … or yourself… because who doesn’t like pudding?

- Leave to cool

For the Rhubarb filling

- heat the butter in a bowl, add rhubarb, add sugar and leave to shimmer over a low fire until the rhubarb is tender and – well – nearly liquid. And as I write this I realize I probably should have taken a picture to show you… my bad sorry.

- put away to cool

For the Meringue:

- for a pie like this you want a nice firm meringue, here is a little trick I learned from my mom : put the sugar in a pan over low heat, put your hand ON the sugar, as soon as you feel heat take the sugar of the stove and add to the egg whites.

- beat egg whites and sugar vigorously until they are nice and firm. Hold the bowl over someone’s head to check if you have beaten them enough, if they don’t fall out… no skip that last one! Sorry that was my 12 year old self talking… Take a spoonful of the mixture out of the bowl and if it doesn’t fall of the spoon it is good.

Assembly:

Take pie crust, cover the bottom with pudding, cover pudding with rhubarb and cover rhubarb with meringue.

Eat! But only if you like rhubarb… if not, eat the extra pudding.

Final Note: I was NOT paid by Imperial to use their pudding powder. This is not a sponsored post.

Playmobil when you are a child versus Playmobil as an adult.

Posted on April 8, 2013 by tantrumsandtomatoes

My reaction to Playmobil when I was a kid :

“Gosh, look at that! So pretty! Oh all those little details! Those little spoons! The little flowers! I’m don’t mind spending an hour to put everything just SO that it is the most realistic and life like as possible before unleashing the attack of the Giant Zombie Barbie destroying civilisation as we know it!”

“Wait, I only have two spoons, where did the other five go? Crap, I think mom got them into the vacuum cleaner again. Better check.”

My reaction to Playmobil as an adult:

“Gosh, look at that! So pretty! Oh all those little details! Those little spoons! The little flowers! I’m so glad n°1 doesn’t mind spending an hour to put everything just SO that it is the most realistic and life like as possible before she destroys it all.!”

“Ah crap that’s another spoon into the vacuum cleaner! Why do they make those things so f****** small?! Thank God she can’t count yet. I wonder if they sell those things separately… might be worthwhile to stock up on them.”

Seriously I have no idea how much of these little suckers have fallen victim to the vacuum cleaner these last days.

And, do they sell these separately… ?

Tantrums and Tomatoes

Cooking and family life in Belgium

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