Pan-Fried Curried Cod

So I was on the phone with my mom earlier today when she tells me about the 'diet dinner' she recently made.  'Honey, it was cottage cheese, sliced bananas, pineapple, and toast.  David was so mad.' 

Now then, I don't mean to take sides or anything, particularly when it is with the one who didn't slave in the kitchen making said diet-dinner.  However, I will say this: I am not a great lover of cottage cheese myself.  And I say this knowing full well that it was one of my grandma's favorites (in the diet-food category), and we should all do our absolute best to live up to Grandma Jo's standards.  (Cottage cheese aside, this can be rather difficult sometimes...)  Anyway, I suppose it wouldn't be so bad for breakfast, or lunch, or a snack of sorts. 

Sometimes breakfast food for dinner is exactly what is called for.  After all, it gets very annoying having to plan meals every single day of the stinking week -- day after day and week after week.  And sometimes it is best just not to be bothered with it at all -- hence a bowl of cereal or something.  In fact, this is the very reason I have become such a fan of frittatas and omelettes and such for dinner, they are very easy and don't take very long.  The Coquette's Eggs we did last week (twice, in case you were wondering) is a perfect example of this -- very simple and ultimately meant to be breakfast. 

I suppose where my problem lies is in the idea of diet food.  There are so many foods that could qualify as 'diet', I suppose, if we simply looked at them differently.  And this is where I annoyed the daylights out of my poor mother (whose cottage cheese dinner was probably very nice).  I told her about our 'diet-dinner' we had last night; although we are not on any diets around here -- despite the fact that my jeans are all wicked tight these days because I haven't felt like running.  Anyway, our 'diet-dinner' consisted of cod fish and rice and asparagus, and it was a breeze to make.  Michael and I loved it.  However, I can promise you that Emilia would have preferred being at grandma and grandpa's house having cottage cheese and fruit.  The only way I could get her to keep the fish in her mouth was through ice-cream bribery.  (Her new favorite thing is chocolate ice-cream.  Can't say I blame the girl.)

Christmas in a Glass and Fresh Orange Bellinis

In one of Jamie Oliver's cookbooks he has a recipe for a drink called Christmas in a Glass. Essentially it is fresh oranges (mandarins, tangerines, and the like) squeezed into a glass with a sprig or two of fresh mint. The scent of orange and mint is heavenly together and really smells like Christmas. And it tastes absolutely perfect — just like Christmas in a glass.

Last year we discovered Mario Batali's recipe for Blood Orange Bellinis. And again, it is a match made in heaven, although obviously not a drink for the little ones.

This year, on account of not being able to find any blood oranges at Whole Foods, I opted for Minneola oranges (tangelos is the correct term, but really, that sounds absolutely ridiculous). They are a good choice because they yield a lot of juice, but the flavor is really not the same as a blood orange. Maybe we should have dropped a few raspberries into each glass, as that would have been a bit closer. Either way, just remember to make sure the oranges are very cold before pouring the juice into your glass. Otherwise you end up with a room-temperature cocktail, which just seems to cheapen the whole experience. But that is merely my opinion.

So this is what we made Christmas day during nap-time and sipped while we made our feast. Once Emilia was up from her nap she got some freshly squeezed juice and sparkling water in a sippy cup. However, after a few sips she was quite finished. Apparently she does not appreciate it when anything is added to her 'Perrier Drink'. 'More Perrier Drink, please!' is something I typically hear several times throughout the day. And while she may be a girl after my own heart, it would appear that I have created a monster. I mean really, the girl isn't even two.

Christmas in a Glass

A variety of mandarins, tangerines, and clementines (about 5 per person), squeezed

Mint leaves

(Recipe from: Happy Days with the Naked Chef by Jamie Oliver, Hyperion Publishing, 2002.)

Blood Orange Bellini

1 bottle prosecco, chilled

2 cups blood orange juice, chilled

Place glasses in the freezer (you are supposed to use champagne flutes, but we used martini glasses) for 20 minutes. Open prosecco and let sit for a few minutes.

Pour ¼ cup blood orange juice into each glass. Top off with prosecco, leaving within ½ inch at the top. Serve. (Recipe from: Holiday Food by Mario Batali, Clarkson/Potter Publishers, 2000.)

Beef and Guinness Stew

For the past few weeks we have been listening, from morning till night, to Frank Sinatra's Jingle Bells and either Lena Horne's or Harry Connick Jr's version of Rudolph the Rednosed Reindeer — over and over and over again. This is on account of the fact that Emilia has taken a fancy to these two songs, and says, time and time again, 'One more time, Jingle Bells! One more time, Reindeer!' In fact, one morning last week as I went to get her out of her bed, I could hear her jumping up and down in her crib, yelling, 'So excited! Rudolph Rednose Reindeer! So excited! Lights!' (The lights to which she referred are those on the tree...) And thus began our day.

I am so envious of Emilia's sheer joy in the morning, and wish so much that I, too, could capture it. It is a truly magical thing to witness. Her hair is a wild mess (if you ask her what her hair is doing, she will proudly make an explosion sound for you), and her little face is glowing. Whereas my typical morning is wild hair accompanied by a glower.

Anyway, the Christmas season is in full-swing at our house. We have: a very colorful and brightly lit tree; stockings hung by the fireplace; 24 hour Christmas music (I've been trying desperately to throw on Charlie Brown's Christmas or Bob Dylan's new Christmas album, whenever Emilia isn't looking); four nativities; and all the rest of the Christmas trappings imaginable — including a prominently displayed picture of Miss Milia screaming her head off on Santa's lap (goes nicely next to last year's screaming picture, if I do say so myself). The only thing we needed on Sunday evening in order to complete the scene was a hearty, stick-to-your-ribs, kind of dinner. And since I had been quite literally craving beef and Guinness stew for days on end (obsessing over it, really), that is what graced our table. It put a smile on all of our faces, gave a lovely feeling of contentment, and warmed us up head to toe (Governor included).

Typically when I make beef and Guinness stew Michael builds a fire in the fireplace (which he did on Sunday), puts some sort medieval music on the stereo (he's really taken a fancy to Medieval Hour on one of the local radio stations — but, alas, had to listen to Rudolph as he danced around the living room with his daughter), and threatens to start reading Sagas of the Icelanders while drinking a stout (or a scotch, he's not too picky when it comes down to it).

These days I serve this dish with an enormous scoop of mashed potatoes in the bowl. However, you could also turn it into a pot-pie, of sorts, by putting puff-pastry over the top. This is also divine, but not as substantial as mashed potatoes. Either way, I'm virtually certain that it will help you get through several more renditions of Rudolph — and not a moment too soon, either.