There comes a point in every home cook’s life when you have amassed a little collection of go-to recipes.

For those nights when you just can’t bear to think about dinner.

For those too-busy-already days when you can’t handle stopping at the grocery store.

And my favorite reason?

For those days when unexpected company comes for dinner.

Last night was one of those days.

Another round of rain leading to cancelled soccer practice and an unexpected free night.  Paving the way to a spour-of-the-moment dinner with friends.

When you have a well-stocked pantry (the merits of which we have talked about here and here and here), on-the-fly dinner plans needn’t induce stress.

Most of us have bacon, pasta, and eggs on hand.  And so it becomes Spaghetti Carbonara.

Easy to make.  Kid-friendly.  Low-maintenance, leaving you time to chat with friends while cooking.  And better still?  Finishing dinner with newly minted members of the Clean Plate Club.

Spaghetti Carbonara was one of my mom’s go-to dishes when we were kids.  I make it probably once a month (it’s now one of Mystic’s daughter’s favorites as well), but I don’t use a recipe.  It’s not rocket science.  But last night, I did some quick searching for recipes, curious to see others’ methods, and the end result was a little bit of this, a little bit of that, and a sum total of deliciousness.

Spaghetti Carbonara.  Nothing new.  Super simple.  But special enough to afford us a fun evening with friends that was low on chaos.

Well, as low on chaos as it can be with four kids running around the house with fake swords, makeshift pinatas, and rousing games of hide-and-seek.

I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Tomorrow?  Advocating for your children.
Friday?  Heading down the Jersey shore for the long weekend?  We’ll share one of our new favorite stops.

Spaghetti Carbonara
Recipe courtesy of Cate O’Malley

• 1 pound spaghetti
• 1 tablespoon olive oil
• 8 slices bacon, cooked and diced; 2 tablespoons bacon grease reserved
• 1 tablespoon olive oil
• 1 onion, chopped
• 3 cloves garlic, minced
• 4 eggs
• 2 cups grated Parmesan cheese

1. In a large pot of boiling salted water, cook spaghetti pasta until al dente. Drain well, reserving 1/2 cup of pasta water. Toss with 1 tablespoon of olive oil, and set aside.
2. Meanwhile in a large skillet, cook chopped onion in the reserved bacon fat and 1 tablespoon olive oil.  Cook over medium heat until onion is translucent. Add minced garlic, and cook 1 minute more.
3. Add cooked bacon to pan; add cooked and drained spaghetti. Toss to coat, adding more olive oil if it seems dry or is sticking together.
4. In a separate bowl, beat eggs, and then add the Parmesan cheese.  Mix thoroughly.  Add the spaghetti mixture and mix well with tongs or large forks.
5. Add reserved pasta water as necessary to achieve desired level of creaminess (I usually add up to a 1/3 cup).
6. Serve immediately.

Picture of Madeline circa January 2010.

Excuse me.

Dragging soap box from the corner of the room.

Dusting it off.

Climbing on.

On Mother’s Day last Sunday night, the kids took me out for dinner.

During our meal, we talked.

Interacted.

Had eye contact.

Smiled.

Laughed.

Shared moments.

And food.

Most important?  We connected.

While we were at the restaurant, we noticed two tables near us.  One table was a husband and wife and their four girls.  During the entire meal, the husband and wife were on their phones.  Texting.  Showing each other things on their respective phones.  Their faces illuminated by the digital glare.  All while their children sat in front of them.  Little interaction between the parents and their children.

Another table near them.  Husband.  Wife.  Three teenagers.  The middle teenager and the Mom were on their phones the entire time.  Barely looking up to put food in their mouths.

Stuff like this drives me crazy.

And I vented about it.  Quite a bit.

Drives me crazy.

Growing up, my Dad would never let us answer the house phone during dinner.

“If it’s important, they’ll call back.”

I used to think that was such a stupid rule.  There were boys!  They might call!  I might miss a trip to the mall!

But of course, years later, I came to realize what he knew back then.

When I was 16.

That he was right.  Of course.

As long as there have been kids in my house (even with my stepdaughter, long before Nick and Madeline were born), I have had the same rule.

We don’t answer the phone during dinner.  Period.  End of story.

When my stepdaughter got her first cell phone years ago, I instituted the no-cell-phones at the dinner table rule.

Texting.  Boys.  Facebook.

It can all wait.

I swear.

Did you know that the average American teenager sends 75 text messages a day?  That’s crazy.  I do, however, text as well.  In fact, when Mystic is over, he often turns off my answering machine because I am terrible about listening to messages.  Texting is instant!  But, I also e-mail.  Call.  Send regular mail.  All of the above.  I like to connect.

But never.  Ever.  During dinner.

People who visit us for dinner know the rules.  About phones and dinner.

And if they mess up?  My kids are the first ones to remind them.

If you can’t connect with your family and friends for 30-45 minutes at the dinner table, WHEN CAN YOU?

Besides the fact that it’s generally rude to your fellow dinner guests, it’s skewing priorities.  Nothing is so important that it can’t be dealt with after dinner.

(My only exception is if I’m eating dinner without my kids, on their Dad’s weekend for example.  If my phone rings, I’ll check just to make sure it isn’t them.)

People.  Please.  Connect with your children.  And if you don’t have kids, it’s just as important.  Who wants to go out with a group of girlfriends, only to have everyone looking down at their lap, busily texting?  At the very least, put the kibosh on phones during meal times.

Whether you’re at a restaurant.  Or at home.  Or at a friend’s house.  Connect with the people who are right there in front of you.  Interact.  Engage.  Share.  Make eye contact.

There’s a pin floating around on Pinterest that has a basket for phones with a note that says “Connect with the people who are here.”  Amen.

I don’t have to point to statistics.  But if I have to, I will.  This recent study is an awesome one.  And when they talk about the importance of connecting as a family during the week for dinner, they mean sans technology.

Just as important as the no-phones-during-meal time rule is, of course, the general concept of family meal time on its own merits.  As we go off on our various paths for soccer practice, Scout meetings, gym runs, errands, work, school, and more, meal time is when we can all come together.

Catch up.  Question.  Vent.  Share.  Keep tabs on what everyone is up to.

As a co-worker and I recently talked about how the world has changed since we were kids, I can only come to one conclusion.  I can’t change how the world operates.  I can only control my little tiny piece of it. 

Raising kids to appreciate family meal times.  And phone-free zones.

And hope that although they might roll their eyes at the rules when THEY turn 16, they’re staunch supporters of it when they have their OWN kids.

Because good values?  They have that trickle down effect.  And it starts in my house.

May 22, 2012 – Bonus Photos

The storm clouds today were pretty amazing.

And considering it’s yet another day of rain, I’m doing my best to appreciate cloud formations and not complain.

It’s no secret that I’m a fan of Middle Eastern food.

See Exhibit A.

And Exhibit B.

Exhibit C.

Amongst other, not-yet-documented moments.

So when my friend Beth and I needed a quick snack to fuel us during a recent Saturday of errands, we went by way of falafel.

A quick duck into a semi-new Middle Eastern restaurant gave us the opportunity to check out their menu, and power up to … power on.   (Although to be completely accurate, this restaurant is designated as Turkish Mediterranean)

A non-descript restaurant in a blink-and-you-miss-it strip mall, Ephesus is about seven months old (new owners, new menu, taken over from the previous Bosphorous), and our takeaway on the place can be summed up in two sentences.

The chef needs to find the salt shaker.

Weirdest.ice.cubes.ever.

We were greeted within minutes of sitting down by our two-days-on-the-job waiter.  We asked for water while going over the menu.  When it came out with two, sad little specks of floating ice, we asked for more.  Which is when we got a bowlful of the ice.

With the hole in the center of each one.

(free bread)

Since it was the middle of the day (past lunch and too early for dinner), we decided to stick with appetizers, going with falafel and babagannus (their spelling).

They both arrived less than 10 minutes later and we started to dig in.

The falafel was hot and crispy on the outside, with an odd almost-pureed, slightly mushy like consistency on the inside.

They weren’t bad.  Just not like any falafel we had ever had before, consistency-wise.

And they totally needed salt.

I am an admitted saltaholic, I know, but trust me on this.

Everything.needed.salt.

Desperately.

The babagannus had a smoky flavor that came through with every bite, but beyond that, it definitely lacked seasoning (and the aforementioned salt).  It was almost like it was a new chef who was afraid of being too heavy-handed with the seasoning, so he went in the complete opposite direction.

Which is almost just as bad.

The waiter was decent.  He hovered a lot and watched us.  Not necessarily for cues for when we needed something, but just watching period.  Most of it we will chalk up to new-job-jitters.

The service was brisk, the restaurant clean, items reasonably priced, and the staff friendly.  There is ample parking right in front, and they offer local delivery as well.  The tv blaring in the corner was a little weird, as was the completely random mix of music piped through the speakers.

The menu is rather extensive, featuring everything from fried eggplant and calamari to fried chicken livers and french fries.  I wish it was more refined, instead concentrating on cultural specialties, and not trying to appeal to the masses.  Would we go again?  Yes.  I think it’s worth it to try out a few more items.  Their Lahmacun (thin crust Turkish style pizza) has gotten good reviews, and is next on our list.

Ephesus Restaurant
490 East Main Street
Denville, NJ 07834
(973) 453-6263
Web Site

A friend and I went out for a much-needed chat session on Wednesday night, and she introduced to what might be my new favorite sushi.

Madeline’s outfit from Friday. Too cute.

Mystic and I stopped at a friend’s baseball game last night, to do a little extra cheerleading.

We left at the bottom of the fourth, and they were ahead 13 zip.

My stepdaughter turned 18 today (where did the time go??), and I love how the kids signed her birthday card.

Unexpected lunch out with the kids on Friday, in a restaurant I haven’t been to in 20 years. Review coming soon.

Sunday picnic with Mystic.

Craft time with a friend on Sunday afternoon. New review coming in June.

You know how when you have a really awesome dinner, you can’t wait for the leftovers the next day?

Or when you brought something in to work for lunch and are counting down the minutes ’till you can eat it?

This.

Is.

That.

The O’Malley clan loves us some avocados.

Like alot.  A lot.  A lot.  (See Exhibit 1.  Exhibit 2.  Exhibit 3.  And countless others.)

As long as we can keep ahead of the ripeness curve (and sometimes we get behind it), we can easily eat several a week.

In salads.

As homemade guacamole.

Diced up and drizzled with a little hot sauce, extra virgin olive oil, sea salt, and cracked black pepper.  (Nick’s favorite way)

In a toasted BLT, which reminds me of a little dive restaurant in Bermuda that The Ex and I discovered on our first cruise vacation.

Smooshed on a sandwich instead of a (less-healthy) different condiment.  (Which is usually my favorite way)

And so became the basis for this sandwich.

Last night, while I was heating up our dinner (leftovers), I quickly roasted some asparagus and sauteed a package of mushrooms.

Today, into my work tote went an avocado, the mushrooms and asparagus, and sourdough bread.

Once lunch time came around, I went to work.  Toasted the sourdough bread.  Smeared the pieces with half an avocado each.  Salt.  Pepper.  Added the warmed up asparagus and mushrooms.

I didn’t need to take a bite to know.

I knew.

So good.

So.very.good.

I restrained myself from eating the whole thing, only because I cut off a small slice to share with a co-worker.

Who came over moments later to tell me how much she liked it.  Even though she isn’t typically a fan of mushrooms.

And speaking of mushrooms?  A few years ago, there was a study of over 2000 women that found those who ate mushrooms regularly had a 50% lower chance of having breast cancer.  And when combined with green tea consumption (thank you, Panera, for my weekly fix), it brought the percentage up to 90%.  A 90% lower chance of having breast cancer?  Yes, please.  I’ll take mine with a side of avocado and asparagus.  (Studies since have also added that having a variety of mushrooms, and mostly cooked, ups your ante, so do that too.)

Toasted Roasted Vegetable Sandwich
Recipe courtesy of Cate O’Malley

sourdough bread
avocado, sliced in half and pitted
roasted asparagus (I put them on a baking sheet with olive oil, salt, and pepper and roasted them at 400 for about 20-30 minutes)
sauteed sliced Portobello mushrooms (I like this variety because they’re a bit meatier than their counterparts)

Toast the sourdough bread.  Spread each slice with half of an avocado, smooshing it so it acts as a binder.

Top with warm asparagus and mushrooms.  Season with salt and pepper.

Devour.

The first time I made this recipe was almost five years ago.

In a post I titled “Sweets for My Sweetie.”

(It was clearly before I learned about SEO-friendly post titling methods…)

It was for The Ex’s birthday.

And this time?

Last night, when The Ex joined us for dinner.

Some things change, and some things stay the same.

Of course I no longer refer to him as my sweetie.  Natch.

‘Cause that would be weird.

But we certainly get along well enough to break bread.

And I think it’s important for the kids to see that.

Which was only reinforced by the fact that they were having a friendly debate about who got to sit next to him.

It hasn’t always been an easy road, and there are still times when he frustrates me.  But when it comes to waving the white flag and peaceful dinner conversations, we’ve got that.

I’m a firm believer that it’s not the situation, it’s how you handle it that makes all the difference, and divorce is no exception.  I did (and still do) everything I can to keep the kids out of any challenging or not-so-peaceful conversations, and to keep things as civil as possible.  In the three years since we split up, I only raised my voice once while they were within earshot (but not right near us), and it was in the very beginning.  And interestingly enough, it was the only time I ever raised my voice since I’ve known him, some 16 years.

There is sometimes tongue biting.  Or swallowing of words.  Or just plain choosing my battles.  But isn’t it that way with everything?  Or it is how it is with me.  And everything.  Whether it’s raising kids or dealing with ex-spouses, I’ve always been big on choosing your battles.  And the older (and wiser, I hope), I get, the less I want to engage.

I either try to rise above it.  Drift away from a toxic person or conversation.  Or just don’t engage.

I just don’t have time for the pettiness.  No one does.  Not while there are children to raise.

So.  Dinner.

I made this pork chop recipe.  Which I rarely do.  And the flan.  And these mini cheesecakes.

Because I know The Ex likes them.

And I sent the leftovers home with him.

Because that’s the kind of ex-wife I am.

Or the kind I try to be.

Hey.  I’m human.  I have my moments too.

Whether you are entertaining an ex-spouse or a current boyfriend, or you just had a really bad Tuesday and want to curl up with a Tivo’d episode of The Bachelorette, make the flan.

It’s stupid simple.  And good for everything.  And anything.

Beyond memories of desserts I used to make for The Ex, it also reminds me a bit of my childhood.  My mom used to make a slightly similar version.  Although since she’s French, we called it Creme Caramel.  Same beast, different spots.

French.  Spanish.  White flags.

All neatly wrapped up in one little dessert.

Eat up.

Spanish Flan
Recipe courtesy of AllRecipes.

PREP TIME 20 Min
COOK TIME 1 Hr

1 cup white sugar
3 eggs
1 (14 ounce) can sweetened condensed milk
1 (12 fluid ounce) can evaporated milk
1 tablespoon vanilla extract

Preheat oven to 350F. In a medium saucepan over medium-low heat, melt sugar until liquefied and golden in color. Carefully pour hot syrup into a 9 inch round glass baking dish, turning the dish to evenly coat the bottom and sides. Set aside. In a large bowl, beat eggs. Beat in condensed milk, evaporated milk and vanilla until smooth. Pour egg mixture into baking dish. Cover with aluminum foil. Bake in preheated oven 60 minutes. Let cool completely. To serve, carefully invert on serving plate with edges when completely cool.

Cate’s Notes: Only change I made was to poke holes in the aluminum foil and bake the dish in a water bath.