a.k.a. Why Disney should make more movies about food.
It started with a movie about a special little rat with a love of food. But not just food – a love of cooking. My kind of rat. Yes I know the movie is a few years old now, but when it first came out my kids were afraid of it – apparently the scene when they put Remy in the oven is a little frightening. So it wasn’t until it came on TV a couple months ago that they had any interest whatsoever in watching it again. Since then it has become one of their favorites. I knew it wouldn’t be long.
“Mom, can we make Ratatouille like the movie?”
Since we have recently started a weekly fancy dinner night and since I have been 
trying to remember to say yes more often, I told them we could give it a try. So I googled “how to make Ratatouille like the movie” and found a New York Times article featuring the actual recipe that inspired the dish in the movie.
To cut down on time and expense, we did things a little differently. I used red peppers only instead of all three colors and dried herbs because that is what I had on hand. I also used a can of diced tomatoes instead of peeling and seeding fresh ones for the “piperade”. We couldn’t find the Japanese eggplant, so I bought a smallish regular eggplant and quartered it before slicing. Instead of cooking at a low temp for 2 
hours, we cranked it up to 450 and it was ready in 30 minutes.
It wasn’t all that difficult to prepare, but I would highly recommend the use of some kind of slicer to save time and make sure your slices are thin and even. I used a mandolin and had perfect 1/16 inch slices of all the veggies in less than 10 minutes.
It starts with the piperade (the yummy sauce in the bottom), a combination of roasted peppers, onions, garlic, tomatoes and herbs cooked until soft and then pureed. Save about a tablespoon of the sauce for later.
Then you layer on the thinly sliced veggies – zucchini, yellow squash, eggplant and tomatoes. Drizzle with a little olive oil and season with salt and pepper and bake.
While your work of art is in the oven, you prepare the vinaigrette by blending together the piperade you saved, olive oil, balsamic vinegar and salt and pepper. The ratatouille is ready when the veggies are soft. We sliced it and drizzled a little of the vinaigrette around and over the top.
I looked at that pile of vegetables fully expecting the kids to take one bite and run. After all, these are kids who pick the green peppers and onions off their pizza and push aside any chunks of tomato that might end up in their spaghetti. But much to my surprise, everyone (except the littlest one, who is currently on a food strike) loved it!
It is a little light for a main course, so I would recommend serving it with bread and salad. Yum!
I’m enjoying a semi-peaceful Saturday morning while hubby sleeps in and the kids lounge around watching Ratatouille for the thousandth time. Little one comes to me and says, “Moooom, Grant is sitting on my pillow!!”
Me: “Okay. Say to him, ‘Excuse me Grant, can I sit there please?’”
He promptly goes to his big brother and repeats my words verbatim. There is no response from big brother.
Me: “Grant, are you listening to your brother?”
Big Brother: “I can’t understand what he’s saying. What did you say, Sawyer?”
Little One: “Get off my pillow!”
Oh well.
I can see your hand everywhere in everything. The little birds chirping outside my window have risen early to worship you. I read your Word and see your plan, foretold and fulfilled, time and time again. It all makes me feel very small. This is the place I should always be, I suppose, in awe of your plan, bewildered by your methods, and anxious to see more. Thank you for including me in your plan. Thank you for continuing to teach me and for helping me to see that there is always more to learn.
For some reason, I have a really hard time committing to do things that take us out of our routine. I hear about a great opportunity to get away from the kitchen table for a day and say “yeah, maybe we’ll do that.” But when the day arrives, something always comes up that keeps us home. I have been determined to change that… to stop saying “maybe” and start saying “yes”.
Yesterday our homeschool group was planning to meet at 9 AM at a farm for a field trip. Corn maze, hay ride, lots of animals, loads of fun. I signed us up. Even told several people we were coming in an effort to give me some accountability. In order to be there at 9, we had to leave at 8:20. Somewhere along the way, children learn that the time to sleep in is anytime you have to be somewhere. read more…
I hear those words and look down to see a broad smile spread across the sweet chubby cheeks of my youngest son as he presses his blanket into my hands. I know that he is waiting anxiously for me to tie the corners of his blanket into a cape so he can bound around the house ready to save the world. As I watch him race out of the room I am struck by the magnitude of his tiny words. Every day I have the awesome privilege of helping three little boys to become Super Men.
They may never be faster than a speeding bullet, but I pray they will be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to become angry.
They may never be more powerful than a locomotive, but I pray they will know that they can do everything through Christ who gives them strength.
They may never be able to leap tall buildings in a single bound, but I pray they will be willing to take a leap of faith when God asks more from them than they think they can give.
And above all else, I pray that Jesus Christ will be their greatest hero.
Early Monday morning we dropped Amber off at the vet for her annual comprehensive exam. We decided to have them clean her teeth as well because after 2 1/2 years her breath has become, well, less than fresh. Probably because I refuse to brush her teeth. I love her, but I have enough teeth to brush around here already.
When it was time to pick her up, they handed me a bottle of antibiotics and informed me that it was a precaution to guard against infection in her gums from the cleaning procedure. Okay then.
The next day, after a couple doses of the medication I started to notice a smell that seemed to follow her around the house. Apparently the antibiotics have begun their assault on her intestinal tract. I went in the boys room last night to kiss them goodnight and the whole room smelled so bad I wanted to cry. Poor kids. I decided to leave their door open to let some fresh air in.
About 30 minutes later, I’m laying in bed, certain I can still smell her. So I got up, and sure enough, she had followed me downstairs and was laying outside my bedroom door. I could smell her stinky behind through the crack under the door!
Today I’m thankful for the relatively cool, cloudy day that makes it possible for me to keep the windows open. Poor dog. If it warms up I may have to banish her to the back yard.
I find it a litte ironic that the reason we’re all suffering through this is that I thought her breath smelled bad.
Okay, so this past weekend we loaded up the kids and made the 5 hour trek to Bowling Green, Kentucky. Apparently Bowling Green is quite the center of family fun. Who knew? We took a boat on a river that flows underground into Lost River Cave. We visited the National Corvette museum and the Corvette assembly plant. We mingled with marsupials and exotic birds at Kentucky Down Under. And, of course, we did what we originally set out to do – a tour of Mammoth Cave.
I could write page after page about the incredible weekend we had in Kentucky. But I kid myself that I would actually have time to do that now in the midst of cake-baking and home schooling. So instead, I’ll share just one of the highlights:
We arrived at Mammoth Cave about an hour ahead of our scheduled tour. We were all wearing appropriate caving attire – athletic pants, tennis shoes & jackets – with the exception of the (almost) 7 year old. Somehow I forgot to grab a jacket for him, so I told him that he could wear mine when it was time to enter the cave. He was pretty excited about the prospect of wearing Mommy’s clothes, so he spent the majority of that hour pestering me about why he couldn’t have the jacket now, particularly because it was secured around my waist and so I wasn’t technically wearing it. So I said, more to myself than to anyone else, “You can’t have it now because it is covering up my butt while we’re out here in broad daylight.”
This was, of course, heard by the entire family and so began the barrage of questions about why I needed a jacket to cover up my backside. My answer was “because I don’t like it very much.” Whether my son was being truthful, or just trying to convince me to give him the shirt, I will never know, but his response was, “awww Mom, I like your butt…”
My mind then began to process this statement… am I happy about this? Why yes, yes I am happy. A compliment is a compliment after all, even if it is coming from a 7 year old with ulterior motives. As I was reveling in the moment, he continued his thought…
“I like your butt because it is REALLY big.”
Every Tuesday at our house is grocery day. I’m ever thankful that God gave me three boys that can help me carry all the groceries up the stairs from the garage each week. It has become standard procedure for everyone, including the toddler, to carry something. Then we all go up the stairs and work on putting things away. The end result of all this help is usually a kitchen scattered from end to end with empty grocery bags.
Yesterday my oldest decided, on his own, that he would help further by cleaning up all the bags. So I said to him, “Thank you so much for cleaning up all those bags without being asked.” He replied, “maybe I could do it every week and you could pay me for it.” I chuckled internally for a bit, and then said, “Maybe you could do it every week, but not for money. Maybe you could just do it as part of your share of the responsibilities. After all, I don’t get paid for doing your laundry or fixing your dinner.”
He looked a bit dejected and then he disappeared up the stairs. The surprise came when he reappeared with 65 cents. I said, “What is this for?” And he said, “for being the greatest mom in the world.”
I love that kid.
What goes hand in hand with a wetter than average, steamy summer in Georgia? Bugs. Bugs. And more bugs. The bug stories have been accumulating, so I thought maybe it was time to share.
Bug Story #1 – The Cruelty of Nature read more…
As we were walking from our car to church on Sunday, we passed a patch of dandelions. My 6 year old immediately plucked one and brought it to me with a big smile. I knew the big hug he got in return would start a parade of flower picking for mom. As expected, the oldest and youngest soon followed suit and picked flowers of their own. But much to my dismay, their flowers weren’t for me. The little one kept his for himself and the oldest, well… he gave his to a little girl in his class. It was quite the picture of the stages of childhood and a reminder of how precious and few those years really are.
